[Transcriber's Note: Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and
italic text is surrounded by _underscores_.]
Our Little Roumanian Cousin
THE
Little Cousin Series
(TRADE MARK)
Each volume illustrated with six or more full page plates in tint.
Cloth, 12mo, with decorative cover per volume, 60 cents
LIST OF TITLES
BY MARY HAZELTON WADE, MARY F. NIXON-ROULET, BLANCHE MCMANUS, CLARA V.
WINLOW, FLORENCE E. MENDEL AND OTHERS
=Our little African Cousin=
=Our Little Alaskan Cousin=
=Our Little Arabian Cousin=
=Our Little Argentine Cousin=
=Our Little Armenian Cousin=
=Our Little Australian Cousin=
=Our Little Austrian Cousin=
=Our Little Belgian Cousin=
=Our Little Bohemian Cousin=
=Our Little Boer Cousin=
=Our Little Brazilian Cousin=
=Our Little Bulgarian Cousin=
=Our Little Canadian Cousin=
=Our Little Chinese Cousin=
=Our Little Cossack Cousin=
=Our Little Cuban Cousin=
=Our Little Danish Cousin=
=Our Little Dutch Cousin=
=Our Little Egyptian Cousin=
=Our Little English Cousin=
=Our Little Eskimo Cousin=
=Our Little French Cousin=
=Our Little German Cousin=
=Our Little Grecian Cousin=
=Our Little Hawaiian Cousin=
=Our Little Hindu Cousin=
=Our Little Hungarian Cousin=
=Our Little Indian Cousin=
=Our Little Irish Cousin=
=Our Little Italian Cousin=
=Our Little Japanese Cousin=
=Our Little Jewish Cousin=
=Our Little Korean Cousin=
=Our Little Malayan (Brown) Cousin=
=Our Little Mexican Cousin=
=Our Little Norwegian Cousin=
=Our Little Panama Cousin=
=Our Little Persian Cousin=
=Our Little Philippine Cousin=
=Our Little Polish Cousin=
=Our Little Porto Rican Cousin=
=Our Little Portuguese Cousin=
=Our Little Roumanian Cousin=
=Our Little Russian Cousin=
=Our Little Scotch Cousin=
=Our Little Servian Cousin=
=Our Little Siamese Cousin=
=Our Little Spanish Cousin=
=Our Little Swedish Cousin=
=Our Little Swiss Cousin=
=Our Little Turkish Cousin=
THE PAGE COMPANY
53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass.
[Illustration: "OFFERED HIM HIS HAND." (_See page 23_)]
Our Little Roumanian Cousin
By Clara Vostrovsky Winlow
Author of "Our Little Bohemian Cousin," "Our Little Bulgarian Cousin,"
etc.
_Illustrated by_ Charles E. Meister
[Illustration]
Boston
The Page Company
MDCCCCXVII
_Copyright 1917, by_
THE PAGE COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
First Impression, July, 1917
PREFACE
In Southern Europe are a number of comparatively small countries
known as the Balkan States, which remind one very much of quarrelsome
children whose troubles have to be straightened out by older brothers
and sisters. Many years ago there were more independent and partially
independent states than now. Two of these little principalities called
Walachia and Moldavia found that they could better protect themselves
from their neighbors if they stood together. So they combined under one
government, and the present country of Roumania was formed in 1857.
In its native form the name of this country was "Romania," representing
the claim of the inhabitants to descent from the Roman legions
that colonized the country. These colonists, who called themselves
"Romani," or "Rumeni," came from the Carpathian lands and the present
Transylvania in the early Middle Ages.
When once started, Roumania grew quite strong as a state. The people
wanted to learn, and improve their condition, and there is no better
example of this than their farming, for this country has become one of
the greatest grain exporting countries in Europe. This was done, for
one thing, by giving up their old-fashioned wooden plows, which just
scratched the surface of the ground, and using modern steel plows from
other countries which turned the ground over, just as our plows do.
The Roumanian men and women are strong and sturdy, and the men are
noted for their bravery and hardiness. So, among the Roumanian
children, we find hardy, manly little boys and cheerful, if
serious-minded, little girls. However, they like to play, just as do
all of our little foreign cousins. This little book tells about their
everyday games and pastimes, how they live, and how they dress.
The brave fathers and brothers of our little Roumanian cousins took
their places in the battle line to defend their homes in the great war
that is now being fought in Europe. No one knows what the outcome of
this terrible struggle will be. Will Roumania be destroyed, or will she
emerge a greater and more powerful country, standing for liberty and
justice? Time only will tell.
Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
PREFACE v
I. THE DOCTOR PRESCRIBES 1
II. JONITZA GETS INTERESTED 7
III. THE TRIP TO THE COUNTRY 13
IV. THE JOURNEY'S END 22
V. GETTING ACQUAINTED 26
VI. AN EXCURSION 33
VII. ST. GEORGE'S DAY 38
VIII. THE CASTLE OF STEPHEN THE GREAT 47
IX. A SPINNING BEE 52
X. NEW PLANS 59
XI. IN THE CARPATHIANS 62
XII. IN THE CARPATHIANS (CONTINUED) 70
XIII. LEAVING THE MOUNTAINS 77
XIV. THE CAPITAL OF ROUMANIA 86
XV. THE NATIONAL DANCE 92
XVI. AT THE MARKET 99
XVII. GOOD-BY 105
List of Illustrations
PAGE
"OFFERED HIM HIS HAND." (_See page 23_) _Frontispiece_
"'WE STOOD AS IF PARALYZED'" 45
"IT WAS ONLY MARITZA" 51
"THERE . . . LAY TWO LONG SHINY SNAKES" 72
"'WILL YOU NOT LET ME TAKE YOU HOME IN THE CAR?'" 100
"SOMETHING CAREFULLY COVERED WITH A SHEET WAS
CARRIED MYSTERIOUSLY INTO JONITZA'S ROOM" 109
Our Little Roumanian Cousin
CHAPTER I
THE DOCTOR PRESCRIBES
Jonitza lay sprawled out on the warm carpet in the living-room near a
big brick stove that reached almost to the ceiling. Beside him were his
playthings and two picture books with fancy covers, but he kicked his
slippered feet discontentedly at them, until his mother, seated at the
other end of the room, arose, put down her sewing, and with a scarcely
audible sigh, picked them up and laid them on the table.
Jonitza paid no attention. Ever since he had been seriously ill the
month before, he had grown accustomed to having people wait on him. He
now turned on his back and began tracing in the air with his finger the
pretty stenciled patterns that covered the walls. Tiring of that, he
started beating a monotonous tattoo with one foot, until his mother,
with the faintest shade of impatience, said: "I think you'd better get
up. You've been lying on the floor for a whole hour doing nothing."
Jonitza arose languidly, stretched himself, and walking over to one of
the big double windows, plumped himself down into a deep arm chair in
front of it.
Jonitza's home was a very comfortable one-story house in the city
of Galatz, one of the leading ports on the Danube River, near the
border line between Moldavia and Wallachia, the two provinces which
with Dobrudja, make up the kingdom of Roumania. It was in one of the
best residence districts, at one end of a high earth cliff. Somewhat
below this cliff extended the flat level of the Lower Town, made up
principally of mills and business houses, immense warehouses for grain,
much of which is exported from Roumania, and wharves stretching out to
the river.
The little boy could not see much of this, but far below, in between
the scattered apricot-trees and lilac bushes in the garden, he could
just get a glimpse of an interesting procession of rude carts to which
bullocks or buffaloes were harnessed, toiling slowly upward on a wide
road. He had become so interested in the struggles of one cart that
looked as if it were loaded with the enormous reeds that are used for
fuel by the poorer people of Galatz that he did not hear the bell
ring and so was quite unprepared to have a hand suddenly laid on his
shoulder and to look up into the smiling face of the family Doctor.
Jonitza had a guilty feeling without knowing why and tried his best to
scowl and look away. It wasn't easy though.
"Why aren't you out-of-doors?" the Doctor asked in a surprised tone.
It was Jonitza's turn to be surprised. "Why," he stammered, "it's--too
cold," here he shivered, "I--I--I am not well enough."
"What nonsense!" the Doctor said. "The air is delightful. I've been
traveling around half the day in it. And, even granting that you're not
well--why, fresh air is the only thing that will make you well."
Jonitza suppressed a yawn and looked listlessly about him. The
Doctor shrugged his shoulders as he said: "I see I must leave a new
prescription for you." Saying this, he tore a leaf from his note-book,
hastily wrote something on it, folded it, and handed it to Jonitza's
mother who stood near by, with: "Please treat what is written here
seriously, Mrs. Popescu. I shall have more to say regarding it to your
husband. Now I must hurry away."
But Mrs. Popescu barred the entrance.
"Not until you have had some coffee," she said. At the same moment,
a maid entered with a tray on which were coffee and sweets, the
refreshments usually handed to visitors in Roumania. The Doctor took a
taste of the coffee and one of the sweetmeats and laughingly remarked
as he left: "It's only fresh air that keeps _me_ from breaking down
under the régime to which _I_ am subjected."
It was only after the door had closed behind him that Mrs. Popescu
unfolded the paper that he had given her. As she glanced over it she
gave an exclamation that caused her son to look up inquiringly.
"Come here," she said to him, and, when he approached, she put her arms
around him. "The Doctor asked this to be taken seriously, and he has
ordered--"
Jonitza's eyes grew round with something like terror, as he fixed them
on her.
"It's nothing bad. Do look natural," his mother hastily continued. "He
has simply ordered me--to take you to spend a month on a farm near some
springs in the foot-hills!"