home of the Gods of his predecessors and having placed his body within the sanctuary, with his face turned to the golden image of the sun on its ceiling, they fitted an enormous flag-stone into the entrance and cemented it up. Thus rested old Zakhar Berkut in the laps of the Gods who had lived in his heart and whispered the brilliant thoughts which inspired him all his life with the ingenious probity to do so much good for his community. So dear became his memory that liberty and independence itself seemed incarnate in his name.
Many changes have taken place since that time. Only too literally has the old townsman’s prophesy been fulfilled. Great hailstorms and clouds of evil have passed over our land of Rus. The old democratic system of rule is long forgotten, it seems dead and buried. But no! Isn’t it time right now, in our day, that it should be renewed again? Aren’t we the ones living in that fortunate period of the re-birth of our nation, which dying old Zakhar Berkut predicted would come someday? And aren’t we today, at least living in the dawn of its re-awakening?
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