Books with title Our Little Boer Cousin

In whatever direction you may travel,—north, south, east, or west,—you will doubtless meet some of your little black-eyed Jewish cousins. They live among us here in America. They also dwell in the countries far away across the wide ocean. Why are they so scattered, you may ask. Is there no country which is really theirs, and which is ruled over by some one they have chosen? Is there not some place where they can gather together happily whenever they please? The answer is always no. They cannot say of this land or of that, "It is ours," for they are homeless. Palestine, which was once theirs, is now in the hands of the Turks. Jerusalem, the city they love best in the whole world, is in the power of those who look with scorn upon the Jewish people. For many centuries they have been scattered far and wide. Their children learn to speak the language of the country where they happen to be born. They play the games and dress in the fashion of that country. What is it that keeps them Jews? It is their religion, and their religion alone. It binds them as closely together now as it did in the days when they worshipped in the great temple at Jerusalem, two thousand years ago.

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"Londonderry, Cork, and Kerry, Spell that to me without a K." "Can you do it now?" said Norah, laughing. "Can I do it? Yes, easy enough, for I've heard the riddle before. T-h-a-t. There, Norah, you didn't catch me this time." Molly laughed, too, as she spoke, and the little girls went on dressing their rag dolls. They were great friends, these two children of Ireland, and, although they were ragged and dirty most of the time, and neither of them owned hats or shoes, they were happy as the day is long. And, when I say this, I mean one of the longest days of Ireland, which are very long indeed.

"Oh, mamma!" cried little Germaine, as she jumped out of bed and ran to the window, "how glad I am it is such a beautiful day." Germaine was up bright and early on this sunshiny day, for many pleasant things were going to happen. However, this was not her only reason for early rising. French people always do so, and little French children are not allowed to lie in bed and to be lazy.

Blanche McManus (1870-1935) was an American author. She studied in London and Paris, and returned to the U. S. in 1893 where she established a studio in Chicago. By 1895, she was authoring and illustrating a series of children’s books, including The True Mother Goose (1895), The Voyage of the Mayflower (1897) and How the Dutch Came to Manhattan (1897). In those same years, she was producing illustrations for other authors’ books, often working on three or four books at one time. Around 1900, she travelled with writer and husband, Francis Miltoun, throughout Europe and North Africa. Their collaboration led to a series of travel books, fully illustrated by McManus including Romantic Ireland (1904). Her other works include: Our Little English Cousin (1905), Our Little French Cousin (1905), Our Little Scotch Cousin (1906), Our Little Dutch Cousin (1906), Our Little Hindu Cousin (1907), Our Little Egyptian Cousin (1908), Our Little Belgian Cousin (1901) and The American Woman Abroad (1911).

"Now it is really time to get ready, is it not, Miss Green?" exclaimed Edith, looking up at the clock for the twentieth time during the last half-hour, and breaking off in the middle of the list of English kings and queens which she was trying to commit to memory. Which king came after Henry III., in that far-away time, seemed a small matter compared to the outing which she and her governess had planned to enjoy on the river that lovely afternoon.