We left St. Petersburg for Moscow, placing our carriage on a sledge drawn by six horses abreast. The cold would have been by no means insupportable had it not been for the high wind, which was so violent at times as to make us fear the overturn of our carriage. The unevenness of the road soon proved to me how erroneous were the ideas I had formed of sledge-travelling in Russia. The bridges too, except on the main road, being only temporary and constructed for sledges with one horse, were not wide or strong enough to support us. Our peasant coachman continually left the main road and took us across country to save a few versts, so next night we were upset into a snowdrift, miles from help of any kind, and with no moon or stars to show us where we were. Our coachman threw himself down in the snow and burst into tears, and from this position nothing could induce him to stir. "We could do nothing but await the return of day. The cold was intense, the roof of the carriage covered with ice, and our voices even appeared to freeze. Making therefore paths on the snow, we began to walk briskly up and down to keep up the circulation in our benumbed limbs. At length our wretched coachman began to listen to the voice of self-preservation, though he had been deaf to that of reason, and, rising from his bed of snow, mounted one of the horses and rode off for assistance. Hour after hour passed, and no signs of his return. At last at daybreak we heard bells, which proved to be our friend returning with two or three miller's horses, whose efforts, combined with our own, succeeded in extricating us.

O ye inhabitants of civilised countries, ye dwellers amongst hills and vales and verdant fields, think with compassion upon those travelling over this dreary waste of snow, where there is not a sign of anything animate or inanimate except the animals dragging and those driving the carriage. To arrive at a relais, which often consisted of a solitary hut of wood, was an event that almost gladdened the heart, so dreary and desolate was everything around us. All the days we spent on the journey, not having an appetite for tallow and other Russian delicacies, we were well-nigh starved as well as frozen.

At last we saw, to our inexpressible delight, the gilded and painted domes and spires of the ancient capital of the Czars.But nothing announced the approach to a great city; not a carriage, nor cart, nor the sign of anything living, relieved the dull monotony of the snow-covered plain till the Russian sentry at the gate put out his barbarian hand to receive the passport of civilisation. Inside the barrier there was an almost equal degree of desolation. A street, the end of which no human vision could reach, and which we, blinded as we were with the snow, could hardly see across, led to the more frequented part of the town. We passed many palaces, which seemed to have parks as pleasure grounds; and contiguous to these habitations of the great were to be seen the miserable abodes of the wretched serfs. Never did I behold such apparent luxury in contact with such misery.'

He stayed in Moscow nearly six months, but states that this part of his journal had again been lost!

He merely says :

The hospitality of the Muscovites was boundless, but confined to small family reunions. The day before my departure the Princess Zeneide Volkousky (La Corinne du Nord) provided me with many letters of introduction, much valuable information, and a number of maps of the Crimea, &c, she had herself made for me.