God have mercy, then, on those who held
such gifts! But here was the difficulty: it was impossible to get rid of
them; if you threw them into the water, the diabolical ring or necklace
would skim along the surface and into your hand.

There was a church in the village--St. Pantelei, if I remember rightly.
There lived there a priest, Father Athanasii of blessed memory.
Observing that Basavriuk did not come to church, even at Easter, he
determined to reprove him and impose penance upon him. Well, he hardly
escaped with his life. "Hark ye, sir!" he thundered in reply, "learn
to mind your own business instead of meddling in other people's, if you
don't want that throat of yours stuck with boiling kutya (1)." What was
to be done with this unrepentant man? Father Athanasii contented
himself with announcing that any one who should make the acquaintance
of Basavriuk would be counted a Catholic, an enemy of Christ's orthodox
church, not a member of the human race.

(1) A dish of rice or wheat flour, with honey and raisins, which is
brought to the church on the celebration of memorial masses.

In this village there was a Cossack named Korzh, who had a labourer whom
people called Peter the Orphan--perhaps because no one remembered either
his father or mother. The church elder, it is true, said that they had
died of the pest in his second year; but my grandfather's aunt would not
hear of that, and tried with all her might to furnish him with parents,
although poor Peter needed them about as much as we need last year's
snow. She said that his father had been in Zaporozhe, and had been taken
prisoner by the Turks, amongst whom he underwent God only knows what
tortures, until having, by some miracle, disguised himself as a eunuch,
he made his escape. Little cared the black-browed youths and maidens
about Peter's parents. They merely remarked, that if he only had a new
coat, a red sash, a black lambskin cap with a smart blue crown on his
head, a Turkish sabre by his side, a whip in one hand and a pipe with
handsome mountings in the other, he would surpass all the young men. But
the pity was, that the only thing poor Peter had was a grey gaberdine
with more holes in it than there are gold pieces in a Jew's pocket. But
that was not the worst of it. Korzh had a daughter, such a beauty as I
think you can hardly have chanced to see. My grandfather's aunt used
to say--and you know that it is easier for a woman to kiss the Evil One
th