undefined feeling of satisfaction; and all set out together for the
suburb, which was half a verst from the Setch. On their arrival, they
were deafened by the clang of fifty blacksmiths' hammers beating upon
twenty-five anvils sunk in the earth. Stout tanners seated beneath
awnings were scraping ox-hides with their strong hands; shop-keepers
sat in their booths, with piles of flints, steels, and powder before
them; Armenians spread out their rich handkerchiefs; Tatars turned
their kabobs upon spits; a Jew, with his head thrust forward, was
filtering some corn-brandy from a cask. But the first man they
encountered was a Zaporozhetz[1] who was sleeping in the very middle
of the road with legs and arms outstretched. Taras Bulba could not
refrain from halting to admire him. "How splendidly developed he is;
phew, what a magnificent figure!" he said, stopping his horse. It was,
in fact, a striking picture. This Zaporozhetz had stretched himself
out in the road like a lion; his scalp-lock, thrown proudly behind
him, extended over upwards of a foot of ground; his trousers of rich
red cloth were spotted with tar, to show his utter disdain for them.
Having admired to his heart's content, Bulba passed on through the
narrow street, crowded with mechanics exercising their trades, and
with people of all nationalities who thronged this suburb of the
Setch, resembling a fair, and fed and clothed the Setch itself, which
knew only how to revel and burn powder.

[1] Sometimes written Zaporovian.

At length they left the suburb behind them, and perceived some
scattered kurens[2], covered with turf, or in Tatar fashion with felt.
Some were furnished with cannon. Nowhere were any fences visible, or
any of those low-roofed houses with verandahs supported upon low
wooden pillars, such as were seen in the suburb. A low wall and a