afresh, and with greater strength than before, to the soul of each, that valour of which only the Slav race—a broad and powerful race,—which is to others what the sea is to shallow rivers,—is capable. In stormy times it turns all to roaring and thunder, raging and raising such waves as weak rivers cannot throw up; but when it is windless and quiet, clearer than any river it spreads its boundless, glassy surface, a constant delight to the eye.
And Taras ordered his servitors to unload one of the wagons which stood apart from the rest. It was larger and stronger than any other in the kazák camp; stout, double tires encircled its huge wheels. It was heavily laden, covered with horse-cloths and strong wolf-skins, and firmly bound with tightly-drawn, tarred ropes. In the wagon were flasks and casks of good, old wine, which had lain long in Taras's cellars. He had brought it along as a reserve, to celebrate some occasion, in case a grand moment should arrive, when there awaited them some deed worthy of being handed down to posterity, so that each kazák, to the very last man, might quaff the forbidden liquor and be inspired with a grand sentiment befitting the grand moment. On receiving their Colonel's command the servants hastened to the wagon, hewed the stout
