already crowding our marshes, but
there was not even a hint of improvement.

[11] "To pour out fear," is done with us in case of fear;
when it is desired to know what caused it, melted lead or wax
is poured into water and the object whose form it assumes is
the one which frightened the sick person; after this, the
fear departs. _Sonvashnitza_ is brewed for giddiness, and
pain in the bowels. To this end, a bit of stump is burned,
thrown into a jug, and turned upside down into a bowl filled
with water, which is placed on the patient's stomach: after
an incantation, he is given a spoonful of this water to
drink.

It was red upon the steppes. Ricks of grain, like Cossacks' caps,
dotted the fields here and there. On the highway were to be
encountered wagons loaded with brushwood and logs. The ground had
become more solid, and in places was touched with frost. Already had
the snow begun to besprinkle the sky, and the branches of the trees
were covered with rime like rabbit-skin. Already on frosty days the
red-breasted finch hopped about on the snow-heaps like a foppish
Polish nobleman, and picked out grains of corn; and children, with
huge sticks, chased wooden tops upon the ice; while their fathers lay
quietly on the stove, issuing forth at intervals with lighted pipes in
their lips, to growl, in regular fashion, at the orthodox frost, or to
take the air, and thresh the grain spread out in the barn. At last the
snow began to melt, and the ice rind slipped away: but Petro remained
the same; and, the longer it went on, the more morose he grew. He sat
in the middle of the cottage as though nailed to the spot, with the
sacks of gold at his feet. He grew shy, his hair grew long, he became
terrible; and still he thought of but one thing, still he tried to
recall something, and got angry and ill-tempered because he could not
recall it. Often, rising wildly from his seat, he gesticulates
violently, fixes his eyes on something as though desirous of catching
it: his lips move as though desirous of uttering some long-forgotten
word--and remain speechless. Fury takes possession of him: he gnaws
and bites his hands like a man half crazy, and in his vexation tears
out his hair by the handful, until, calming down, he falls into
forgetfulness, as it were, and again begins to recall, and is again
seized with fury and fresh tortures.... What visitation of God is
this?

Pidorka was neither dead nor