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Our Little Roumanian Cousin is a novella by Clara Vostrovsky Winlow. Winlow was an author known for weaving wholesome stories where a country or site with its cultural traditions formed a backbone for the story. Excerpt: "The farm-house at which they were staying looked attractive in its cleanliness. It had been recently whitewashed and the doors and window frames painted a bright blue. It was built entirely of timber. The roof consisted of thin strips of wood laid closely row upon row. Near the house were some fruit-trees and lilac bushes and a small flower garden in which basil and gilliflowers, so often mentioned in Roumanian folk songs, were conspicuous."
In the very heart of Europe lies a small country nestling among the mountains. It is unlike any other in the world. Its people speak four different languages; they believe in different religions; the government is not alike in different parts; yet the Swiss states are bound together by a bond stronger than unity of language or creed can possibly make. Our brave Swiss cousins believe in liberty for all and brotherly love. These make the most powerful of ties. In their mountains and valleys they have fought against the enemies who would have destroyed them, and the tyrants who would have made them slaves. They have driven out their foes again and again, for their cause was noble and unselfish, and to-day the republic formed by them can teach other countries many wise and worthy lessons. How the stories of William Tell and Arnold von Winkelried stir our hearts whenever we hear them repeated! These were only two of many heroes who have made the country famous for its bravery and unselfishness. Surely we shall be glad to turn our minds for a while to its fertile valleys, beautiful lakes, and the noble mountains among which the good monks live with their trusty dogs, that they may give aid and comfort to unfortunate travellers overtaken by cold and storm.Ê
Friday morning Frau MŸller and Ferdinand jumped into a fiaker and drove to the railroad station to meet Teresa Runkel. She was a fine-looking child, with round, rosy cheeks; quite tall, with the fair complexion, sunny hair, andsoft, Austrian blue eyes that makes the women of that land famed for their beauty. She was overjoyed at this unexpected pleasure of spending a day or two in the city of Vienna, which she had never seen, although she had passed through several times on her way to and from the convent. She enjoyed the brisk drive to the tall apartment house in the Schwanengasse, and she fairly bubbled with chatter. "After luncheon, my dear," observed Frau MŸller, "we shall have Herr MŸller take you about our city; for Vienna is vastly different from Linz." Herr MŸller joined the party at luncheon at eleven o'clock, which was really the breakfast hour, because Austrian families take only coffee and cakes or rolls in the early morning, eating their hearty breakfast toward the middle of the day, after which they rest for an hour or two, before beginning their afternoon duties. At two o'clock the three were ready for theÊwalk, for Frau MŸller was not to accompany them. Joseph, the portier, an important personage in Viennese life, nodded "A-b-e-n-d" to them, as they passed out the front door of the building, over which he presided as a sort of turnkey. No one may pass in or out without encountering the wary eye of Joseph, who must answer to the police for the inmates of the building, as also for the visitors. And this is a curious custom, not only in Vienna, but other European cities, that immediately upon one's arrival at an hotel, or even a private home, the police are notified, unawares to the visitor, of his movements and his object in being in the city, which reduces chances of crime to a minimum; burglary being almost unknown, picking pockets on the open streets taking its place in most part. Ê
Our Little Scotch Cousin by Blanche McManus is a collection of lively adventure tales about Donald and Sandy, two young Scottish lads having fun in their neighborhood. Excerpt: "Hello! Sandy, what do you think I have got here?" called Donald, over the low wall which separated his garden from that of his chum. He was quite excited..."
Reproduction of the original: Our Little Turkish Cousin by Mary Hazelton Wade
Reproduction of the original: Our Little Alaskan Cousin by Mary F. Nixon-Roulet
Our little Dutch cousins have much in common with little American cousins, not so much perhaps with respect to present-day institutions and manners and customs, as with the survivals and traditions of other days, when the Dutch played so important a part in the founding of the new America. It was from Holland, too, from the little port of Delfshaven, that the Pilgrim Fathers first set sail for the New World, and by this fact alone Holland and America are bound together by another very strong link, though this time it was of English forging. No European country, save England, has the interest for the American reader or traveller that has "the little land of dikes and windmills," and there are many young Americans already familiar with the ways of their cousins from over the seas from the very fact that so many of them come to Holland to visit its fine picture-galleries, its famous and historic buildings, its tulip-gardens, and its picturesque streets and canals, which make it a paradise for artists. Our little Dutch cousins mingle gladly with their little American cousins, and the ties that bind make a bond which is, and always has been, inseverable.