and whilst there they had acquired
some polish, and pursued some common branches of knowledge which gave
them a certain resemblance to each other.

The elder, Ostap, began his scholastic career by running away in the
course of the first year. They brought him back, whipped him well, and
set him down to his books. Four times did he bury his primer in the
earth; and four times, after giving him a sound thrashing, did they buy
him a new one. But he would no doubt have repeated this feat for the
fifth time, had not his father given him a solemn assurance that he
would keep him at monastic work for twenty years, and sworn in advance
that he should never behold Zaporozhe all his life long, unless he
learned all the sciences taught in the academy. It was odd that the man
who said this was that very Taras Bulba who condemned all learning, and
counselled his children, as we have seen, not to trouble themselves at
all about it. From that moment, Ostap began to pore over his tiresome
books with exemplary diligence, and quickly stood on a level with the
best. The style of education in that age differed widely from the manner
of life. The scholastic, grammatical, rhetorical, and logical subtle
ties in vogue were decidedly out of consonance with the times, never
having any connection with, and never being encountered in, actual life.
Those who studied them, even the least scholastic, could not apply their
knowledge to anything whatever. The learned men of those days were
even more incapable than the rest, because farther removed from all
experience. Moreover, the republican constitution of the academy,
the fearful multitude of young, healthy, strong fellows, inspired the
students with an activity quite outside the limits of their learning.
Poor fare, or frequent punishments of fasting, with the numerous
requirements arising in fresh, strong, healthy youth, combined to arouse
in them that spirit of enterprise which was afterwards further developed
among the Zaporozhians. The hungry student running about the streets of
Kief forced every one to be on his guard. Dealers sitting in the bazaar
covered their pies, their cakes, and their pumpkin-rolls with their
hands, like eagles protecting their young, if they but caught sight of
a passing student. The consul or monitor, who was bound by his duty to
look after the comrades entrusted to his care, had such frightfully wide
pockets to his trousers that he could stow away the whole contents
of