Read Ebook: Our Little Roumanian Cousin by Winlow Clara Vostrovsky Meister Charles E Illustrator

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Ebook has 291 lines and 21515 words, and 6 pages

t's see how many different ones we can make out."

The little boys did not take kindly to the suggestion. "I am hungry," one of them said; "let's go home."

So back the three began to trudge, now and then throwing a stone into the air, or, when they could, into the water.

Jonitza felt more tired than he cared to confess to the two youngsters and inwardly planned to lie down as soon as he came within doors. "I'll be home in less than fifteen minutes, now!" he suddenly exclaimed, thinking aloud.

"How can you and see me dance?" said a voice behind him so unexpectedly that Jonitza jumped. Turning, he saw a laughing peasant all decorated with tiny bells.

"Oh, jolly!" the other boys shouted. "There's going to be a dance! Come on!"

Those little bells must have said "Come on" too, for Jonitza found himself trying to keep up with the peasant's rapid strides.

Down in the Lower Town, before one of the old domed churches, they found a crowd gathered. Although there was nothing unusual about such a gathering, one could see from the faces that something unusual was expected.

It was not a silent expectation, however. Everywhere people were talking and laughing and a few young men were even singing. As soon as the peasant with bells appeared, a shout arose. At the same instant a troop of other peasants, all attired in their gay embroidered national costumes, with bells at their girdles and on their sleeves, came in a body into the square, and taking their places began to dance and shout and sing and stamp their feet. Some one said this was the Pyrrhic Dance that was sacred in ancient mythology, and that had come to the Roumanians from their Roman forefathers; a dance to prevent Saturn from hearing the voice of his infant son Jupiter, lest he devour him. Whether this explained it or not there was no doubt of the audience liking it, for at its conclusion all clapped their hands and burst into boisterous exclamations of delight. Jonitza, feeling some of the excitement, clapped too, and no longer conscious of any tired feeling waited until almost every one had gone before he made his way slowly home.

THE TRIP TO THE COUNTRY

On Tuesday of the following week Jonitza, his mother, and the maid Maritza, after a short trip on the train, were being driven over the vast level and wonderfully fertile plains of Roumania, that stretched before them like a great green sea. There were already signs that the short spring that Roumania has would soon change into summer. Wild flowers were to be seen here and there and birds twittered and flew about.

The way lay among thatched farm-houses whose gleaming walls showed that they had been freshly whitewashed at Easter. Now and then a peasant seated in a rude wagon, drawn by beautiful, creamy, short-legged oxen with wide-spreading horns, saluted them gravely.

They passed wayside crosses also, before some of which peasants were kneeling in prayer.

But, despite these interesting things, there was something tiring in the long journey over the monotonously level plains, and Jonitza grew more and more restless. His pretty mother noticed it and drawing him to her she began to tell him the most interesting stories. First of all about Trajan, the great Roman Emperor, who came to their country so many centuries ago and conquered the people who then inhabited it. She described to him the great column in Rome commemorating his victory, and told him how proud every Roumanian was that he was descended from the soldiers that the Emperor left to guard the new possessions.

"Is that why we call the thunder Trajan's voice?" asked Jonitza.

"Perhaps," his mother answered. "We certainly love to call things by his name."

"The Milky Way is Trajan's Road, isn't it?" again inquired Jonitza.

His mother nodded.

"The boys call the ditch by the lumber mill Trajan's Moat," Jonitza continued.

His mother smiled. "Roumania is full of Trajan's moats; it would be hard to find a village that hasn't one. There are many interesting stories," continued his mother, "connected with our history. You know, from your tutor, that the section of Roumania in which we live is called Moldavia. Would you like to hear the old legend as to how it got its name?"

"Please tell it to me," her son answered eagerly, his eyes sparkling with interest.

"Once upon a time," began his mother, "a Prince called Bogdan lived in this part of the world. Now, Bogdan had a dog whom he valued above all the other dogs that he owned.

"One day, while out hunting, this dog, whose name was Molda, caught sight of a buffalo and chased it to the very brink of a river. When the terrified buffalo waded into the water the dog in his excitement followed, was caught in the current and drowned.

"When his followers saw how deeply affected by the dog's death Bogdan was, they pursued the buffalo, killed it, and taking its head back with them, nailed it over the entrance to the Palace.

"But this did not lessen the Prince's grief. Whenever possible he would go to the river's banks to mourn. The people, seeing him there, would repeat the story, so that after a while the river became associated with the name of the dog and was spoken of as the Moldava. Gradually the name, slightly modified, was applied also to all of the surrounding country."

"Please tell me more stories about Moldavia," begged Jonitza, when his mother had been silent for some time.

"Listen then to the story of Movila," again began his mother, glad to see that the restless look had left her son's face. "This is a story of King Stephen who was great in mind but very small in body. Once in a battle with Hungarians his horse was killed under him. As the horse fell, the King was caught by one of his heralds, a man as large as Stephen was small. After assisting him to his feet, the herald offered Stephen his own horse. The King looked up at the big animal with a frown, but the herald, kneeling before him, placed Stephen's foot on his shoulder and exclaimed: 'Oh, Prince, allow me to serve you as a mole-hill.'

"'Mole-hill,' returned Stephen, getting on the horse, 'I will make a mountain of you.'

"Then Fortune favored Stephen and soon the victory was his. No sooner was he back in camp than he sent for the herald. When the latter came, he found Stephen surrounded by his court. 'Herald,' said Stephen, 'thou hast served me as a mole-hill. In return I give thee the name of Movila . Thou shalt have no other. Thou gavest me thy horse in my need. In return, I give thee five full domains over which thou shalt rule.'"

"The water must be hot," said the maid, "before the meal is stirred into it. You continue stirring until it is almost done, then you can add a little grated cheese. At our house, when it is well cooked, we put it into a cloth and tie it up."

Here some dried fish which the owner of the tavern had perhaps not intended to serve at first, were laid on the table.

"These fish have a nice flavor," remarked Mrs. Popescu.

"I know how they also are prepared," said Maritza, "for my brother has helped get them ready."

"Suppose you tell us about it, Maritza," said Mrs. Popescu, evidently not wishing the party to hurry.

"Very well, ma'am," consented the maid. "First, a kind of basket work of osiers is built up. This is covered with walnut leaves in which the fish are wrapped. The building is then filled with smoke for several days, or until the fish look yellow and smell good. They are then taken down, made into bundles and surrounded by pine-tree branches, which add a new flavor to them that most people like."

Here the tavern-keeper again appeared with a bottle of the damson plum brandy for which Roumania is famous. But Mrs. Popescu shook her head. "Not this time," she said smiling.

From this little town the journey was a steady climb upward amid oak, beech and lime-trees. There were more crosses along the roadside. In one spot there was a large group of them, all brightly painted and roofed over.

It was not until late in the afternoon that they came in sight of the village near which the farm lay where they were to stay for a while. Full of expectations of a good supper, they drove past it and on to a pleasant and prosperous looking dwelling. In the front of the broad veranda an interesting group stood waiting to welcome them.

THE JOURNEY'S END

The medium-sized, vigorous-looking man who formed one of the group on the veranda, hurried forward to meet them. He was dark with long black wavy hair. He wore white woolen trousers, a sort of big sleeved tunic or shirt of coarse but very clean linen, well belted in at the waist by a broad scarlet woolen scarf. Over this was a sleeveless sheepskin jacket, the wool inside, the outside gayly embroidered. On his feet were goatskin sandals.

His wife was slender and quite fair. Like her husband, she was evidently wearing a holiday dress. This was a white gown covered with red and black embroidery, a brightly colored apron, and several necklaces of colored beads and coins. A gay kerchief, fringed with a row of spangles, was set well back on her light brown hair. She also advanced to meet the newcomers.

A bright-eyed boy of about twelve and a very pretty girl about four years younger were left standing and staring by the doorway. After greetings had been exchanged and all had descended from the carriage, the farmer said something to his son who immediately went up to Jonitza and offered him his hand. At the same time he proposed showing him the grounds while supper was being placed on the table.

Jonitza at once accepted the offer. He was anxious to see what was outside, and, besides, his legs felt so stiff from the long ride that he longed to exercise them.

Neither of the boys spoke at first, although they glanced shyly at each other now and then. At a corner of the house the ice was broken in an unexpected fashion. They walked right into a flock of geese who set up a "Honk! Honk!" and made a peck at Jonitza who happened to disturb them most.

Taken by surprise, Jonitza jumped awkwardly to one side. Nicolaia, his companion, could not restrain a laugh. The next minute, evidently fearing that he had hurt his new acquaintance's feelings, he put his hand on his shoulder in a friendly way and suggested a visit to the pigs.

"Katinka," he called to his sister, who was shyly following them, "go get something to take to the pigs."

Katinka turned obediently and ran into the house. She soon reappeared, carefully holding a pan.

The pigs proved worth visiting. They were of the wild boar species with an upright row of funny hard bristles on their backs. They were so full of play, too, that Jonitza was genuinely sorry to hear the call to supper.

"It's just splendid here!" he whispered to his mother as he saw her for an instant alone before entering the big kitchen which served also as dining-room.

Jonitza now noticed that although the farmer and his son had kept their hats on in the house, they were careful to remove them before sitting down to the meal.

GETTING ACQUAINTED

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