for the Young.
_BY_
_SAMUEL OSBOURNE_
ILLUSTRATED.
_Printed by the Author._
Davos-Platz.
_Chapter I._
In this forest we see, in a misty morning, a camp fire! Sitting lazily
around it are three men. The oldest is evidently a sailor. The sailor
turns to the fellow next to him and says, "blast my eyes if I know where
we is." "I's rather think we're in the vecenty of tho Rocky Mount'ins."
Remarked the young man.
Suddenly the bushes parted. 'WHAT!' they all exclaim, '_Not BLACK
EAGLE?_'
Who is Black Eagle? We shall see.
_Chapter II._
James P. Drake was a gambler! Not in cards, but _in lost luggage_! In
America, all baggage etc. lost on trains and not reclaimed is put up to
auction _unopened_.
James was one who always expected to find a fortune in some one of these
bags.
[Illustration]
One day he was at the auction house as usual, when a small and
exceedingly light trunk was put up for sale. He bought and opened it.
_It was empty! NO! A little bit of paper_ was in the bottom with this
written on it.
IDAHO
[Illustration: Black Canyon 570 fR0(1)m west 10 L Beware Indian Black
Eagle]
Being an intelligent young man he knew that this was _a clue for finding
Hidden TREASURE_! Then after a while he made this: _In Black Canyon,
Idaho, 570 feet west of some mark, 10 feet below a tree Treasure will be
found. Beware of Black Eagle (Indian)._ But he forgot the (1).
_Chapter III._
James at once took two friends into his secret: an old sailor (Jack),
and a young frontiersman.
[Illustration]
They all agreed that they must start for Black Canyon at once. The
frontiersman said he had heard of Black Canyon in Idaho.
But who could Black Eagle be?
_Chapter IV._
Lost! Certainly lost! Lost in the Far West! The Frontiersman had lost
them in a large forest. They had travelled for about a month, first by
water (See page 4) then by stage, then by horse.
[Illustration]
This was their third day in it. Just after their morning meal the bushes
parted.
[Illustration]
_An Indian stood before them! (See 1st Chap.)_ He merely said '_COME_.'
They take up their arms and do so.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Chapter V.
After following him for four hours, he stopped, turned around and said,
"Rest, eat you fellows." They did so. In about an hour they started
again. After walking ten miles they heard the roaring of an immense
cataract. Suddenly they find themselves face to face _with a long deep
gorge or canyon. 'Black Canyon,'_ they all cry. '_Stop_,' says the
Indian. He pushes a stone aside. It uncovers the mouth of a small cave.
The Indian struck a light with _two sticks_. They follow him into this
cave for about a mile when the cave opens into an immense Grotto. The
Indian whistled, _a bear and dog appeared_. "Bring meat, Nero," said the
Indian.
The bear at once brought a deer. Which they cooked and ate. Then the
Indian said, _"Show me the Treasure clue." His eyes flashed when he saw
it._
_Chapter VI._
[Illustration]
MIDNIGHT! _The Indian is about to light a fuse to a cask of gunpowder!
But James sees him and shoots him before he is able to light the fuse._
[Illustration]
He ran to the side of the dying Indian who made this confession. "I am
not an Indian. 10 years ago I met G. Gidean, a man who found a quantity
of gold here. Before be died, he sent that clue to a friend _who never
received it_. I knew the gold was here. I have hunted 10 years for it,
your clue showed me where IT was," _(here Black Eagle told it to James.)
Then Black Eagle DIED_.
_Chapter VII._
20 years have passed! James is the same as ever. Jack is owner of a
yacht.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
The Frontiersman owns a large cattle and hog ranch.
[Illustration]
Finis.
NOT I,
And Other POEMS,
_BY_
Robert Louis Stevenson,
Author of
_The Blue Scalper, Travels
with a Donkey etc._
PRICE 6d.
Dedicated to
_Messrs. R.& R. CLARKE_
by
_S.L.Osbourne_
Davos
1881
_Not I._
Some like drink
In a pint pot,
Some like to think;
Some not.
Strong Dutch Cheese,
Old Kentucky Rye,
Some like these;
Not I.
Some like Poe
And others like Scott,
Some like Mrs. Stowe;
Some not.
Some like to laugh,
Some like to cry.
Some like chaff;
Not I.
[Illustration]
Here, perfect to a wish,
We offer, not a dish,
But just the platter:
A book that's not a book,
A pamphlet in the look
But not the matter.
I own in disarray;
As to the flowers of May
The frosts of Winter,
To my poetic rage,
The smallness of the page
And of the printer.
As seamen on the seas
With song and dance descry
Adown the morning breeze
An islet in the sky:
In Araby the dry,
As o'er the sandy plain
The panting camels cry
To smell the coming rain.
So all things over earth
A common law obey
And rarity and worth
Pass, arm in arm, away;
And even so, today,
The printer and the bard,
In pressless Davos, pray
Their sixpenny reward.
[Illustration]
The pamphlet here presented
Was planned and printed by
A printer unindent-ed,
A bard whom all decry.
The author and the printer,
With various kinds of skill,
Concocted it in Winter
At Davos on the Hill.
They burned the nightly taper
But now the work is ripe
Observe the costly paper,
Remark the perfect type!
[Illustration]
Begun FEB ended OCT 1881
MORAL EMBLEMS
A
Collection of Cuts and Verses.
_By_
_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON._
Author of
_The Blue Scalper, Travels with a Donkey,
Treasure Island, Not I etc._
Printers:
S. L. OSBOURNE & COMPANY.
Davos-Platz.
[Illustration]
See how the children in the print
Bound on the book to see what's in't!
O, like these pretty babes, may you
Seize and _apply_ this volume too!
And while your eye upon the cuts
With harmless ardour open and shuts,
Reader, may your immortal mind
To their sage lessons not be blind.
[Illustration]
Reader, your soul upraise to see,
In yon fair cut designed by me,
The pauper by the highwayside
Vainly soliciting from pride.
Mark how the Beau with easy air
Contemps the anxious rustic's prayer,
And casting a disdainful eye,
Goes gaily gallivanting by.
He from the poor averts his head....
He will regret it when he's dead.
[Illustration]
_A Peak in Darien_.
Broad gazing on untrodden lands,
See where adventurous Cortez stands;
While in the heavens above his head,
The Eagle seeks its daily bread.
How aptly fact to fact replies:
Heroes and Eagles, hills and skies.
Ye, who contemn the fatted slave,
Look on this emblem and be brave
[Illustration]
See in the print, how moved by whim
Trumpeting Jumbo, great and grim,
Adjusts his trunk, like a cravat,
To noose that individual's hat.
The sacred Ibis in the distance
Joys to observe his bold resistance.
[Illustration]
Mark, printed on the opposing page,
The unfortunate effects of rage.
A man (who might be you or me)
Hurls another into the sea.
Poor soul, his unreflecting act
His future joys will much contract,
And he will spoil his evening toddy
By dwelling on that mangled body.
Works recently issued by
SAMUEL OSBOURNE & CO. DAVOS.
NOT I and other poems, by Robert Louis Stevenson.
_A volume of enchanting poetry._
BLACK CANYON or wild adventures in the Far West, by S. Osbourne.
_A beautiful gift-book._
_To be obtained from the Publishers and all respectable BOOK-SELLERS._
[Illustration]
Stevenson's Moral Emblems.
_Edition de Luxe: 5 full-page Illustrations._
Price 9 PENCE.
The above speciman cut, illustrates a new departure in the business of
OSBOURNE & Co.
Wood engraving, designed and executed by Mr. & Mrs. Stevenson and
printed under the PERSONAL supervision of Mr. Osbourne, now form a
branch of their business.
Today is published by _S. L. Osbourne & Co._
A
Second Collection Of
MORAL
EMBLEMS.
By
_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON._
_Edition de Luxe_, tall paper, (extra fine) first impression. Price 10
pence.
_Popular Edition_, for the Million, small paper, cuts slightly worn, a
great bargain, 8 pence.
NOTICE!!!
A literary curiosity: Part of the M. S. of '_Black Canyon_.' Price 1s.
6d.
Apply to
SAMUEL OSBOURNE & C^o
Buol Chalet (Villa Stein,) Davos.
MORAL EMBLEMS
A Second Collection of Cuts and Verses.
_By_
_ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON._
Author of
_Latter-day Arabian Nights, Travels
with a Donkey, Not I, &c._
Printers:
S. L. OSBOURNE & COMPANY.
Davos-Platz.
[Illustration]
With storms a-weather, rocks a-lee,
The dancing skiff puts forth to sea.
The lone dissenter in the blast
Recoils before the sight aghast.
But she, although the heavens be black,
Holds on upon the starboard tack.
For why? although today she sink
Still safe she sails in printers' ink,
And though today the seamen drown,
My cut shall hand their memory down.
[Illustration]
The careful angler chose his nook
At morning by the lilied brook,
And all the noon his rod he plied
By that romantic riverside.
Soon as the evening hours decline
Tranquilly he'll return to dine,
And breathing forth a pious wish,
Will cram his belly full of fish.
[Illustration]
The Abbot for a walk went out
A wealthy cleric, very stout,
And Robin has that Abbot stuck
As the red hunter spears the buck.
The djavel or the javelin
Has, you observe, gone bravely in,
And you may hear that weapon whack
Bang through the middle of his back.
_Hence we may learn that abbots should
Never go walking in a wood._
[Illustration]
The frozen peaks he once explored,
But now he's dead and by the board.
How better far at home to have stayed
Attended by the parlour maid,
And warmed his knees before the fire
Until the hour when folks retire!
_So, if you would be spared to friends.
Do nothing but for business ends_.
[Illustration]
Industrious pirate! see him sweep
The lonely bosom of the deep,
And daily the horizon scan
From Hatteras or Matapan.
Be sure, before that pirate's old,
He will have made a pot of gold,
And will retire from all his labours
And be respected by his neighbors.
_You also scan your life's horizon
For all that you can clap your eyes on._
Works recently issued by
SAMUEL OSBOURNE & C^o.
DAVOS.
NOT I and other poems, by Robert Louis Stevenson.
_A volume of enchanting poetry._
BLACK CANYON or wild adventures in the Far West, by S. L. Osbourne.
_A beautiful gift-book._
MORAL EMBLEMS, (first Series.) by Robert Louis Stevenson.
_Has only to be seen to be admired._
_To be obtained from the Publishers and all respectable Book-sellers._
A Martial Elegy for some lead Soldiers.
For certain soldiers lately dead
Our-reverent dirge shall here be said.
Them, when their martial leader called,
No dread preparative appalled;
But leaden hearted, leaden heeled,
I marked them steadfast in the field
Death grimly sided with the foe,
And smote each leaden hero low.
Proudly they perished one by one:
The dread Pea-cannon's work was done
O not for them the tears we shed,
Consigned to their congenial lead;
But while unmoved their sleep they take,
We mourn for their dear Captain's sake,
For their dear Captain, who shall smart
Both in his pocket and his heart,
Who saw his heros shed their gore
And lacked a shilling to buy more!
Price 1 penny. (1st Edition.)
Today is published by SAMUEL OSBOURNE & Co.
THE
GRAVER and the PEN
OR
Scenes from Nature with Appropriate Verses
by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON author of the 'EMBLEMS.'
'The Graver and the Pen' is a most strikingly illustrated little work
and the poetry so pleasing that when it is taken up to be read is
finished before it is set down.
It contains 5 full-page illustrations (all of the first class) and 11
pages of poetry finely printed on superb paper (especially obtained from
C. G. Squintani & Co. London) with the title on the cover in red
letters.
Small 8vo. Granite paper cover with coloured title
_Price Ninepence per Copy_.
Splendid chance for an energetic publisher!!!
For Sale--Copyright of 'Black Canyon' price 1 / 3/4
Autograph of Mr. R. L. Stevenson price -/3, ditto of Mr. S. L. Osbourne
price 1/- each.
If copies of the 'Graver,' 'Emblems,' or 'Black Canyon' are wanted apply
to the publisher, 17 Harlot Row Edinburgh.
THE GRAVER & THE PEN.
THE
_GRAVER & THE PEN_,
or
Scenes from Nature with
Appropriate Verses
BY
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
author of
'The New Arabian Nights,' 'Moral Emblems,' 'Not I,' 'Treasure Island,'
etc.
_Illustrated._
EDINBURGH
_S. L. Osbourne & Company_
No. 17 HERIOT ROW.
[It was only by the kindness of Mr. CRERAR of Kingussie that we are able
to issue this little work--having allowed us to print with his own press
when ours was broken.]
PROEM.
Unlike the common run of men,
I wield a double power to please,
And use the GRAVER and the PEN
With equal aptitude and ease.
I move with that illustrious crew,
The ambidextrous Kings of Art;
And every mortal thing I do
Brings ringing money in the mart.
Hence, to the morning hour, the mead,
The forest and the stream perceive
Me wandering as the muses lead----
Or back returning in the eve.
Two muses like two maiden aunts,
The engraving and the singing muse,
Follow, through all my favorite haunts,
My devious traces in the dews.
To guide and cheer me, each attends;
Each speeds my rapid task along;
One to my cuts her ardour lends,
One breathes her magic in my song.
[Illustration]
_The Precarious Mill._
Alone above the stream it stands,
Above the iron hill,
The topsy-turvy, tumble-down,
Yet habitable mill.
Still as the ringing saws advance
To slice the humming deal,
All day the pallid miller hears
The thunder of the wheel.
He hears the river plunge and roar
As roars the angry mob;
He feels the solid building quake,
The trusty timbers throb.
All night beside the fire he cowers:
He hears the rafters jar:
O why is he not in a proper house
As decent people are!
The floors are all aslant, he sees,
The doors are all a-jam;
And from the hook above his head
All crooked swings the ham.
"Alas," he cries and shakes his head,
"I see by every sign,
There soon will be the deuce to pay,
With this estate of mine."
[Illustration]
The Disputatious Pines.
The first pine to the second said:
"My leaves are black, my branches red;
I stand upon this moor of mine,
A hoar, _unconquerable pine_."
The second sniffed and answered: "Pooh,
I am as good a pine as you."
"Discourteous tree" the first replied,
"The tempest in my boughs had cried,
The hunter slumbered in my shade,
A hundred years ere you were made."
The second smiled as he returned:
"I shall be here when you are burned."
So far dissension ruled the pair,
Each turned on each a frowning air,
When flickering from the bank anigh,
A flight of martens met their eye.
Sometime their course they watched; and then
They nodded off to sleep again.
[Illustration]
_The Tramps_.
Now long enough has day endured,
Or King Apollo Palinured,
Seaward be steers his panting team,
And casts on earth his latest gleam.
But see! the Tramps with jaded eye
Their destined provinces espy.
Long through the hills their way they took,
Long camped beside the mountain brook;
'Tis over; now with rising hope
They pause upon the downward slope,
And as their aching bones they rest,
Their anxious captain scans the west.
So paused Alaric on the Alps
And ciphered up the Roman scalps.
[Illustration]
_The Foolhardy Geographer._
The howling desert miles around,
The tinkling brook the only sound--
Wearied with all his toils and feats,
The traveller dines on potted meats;
On potted meats and princely wines,
Not wisely but too well he dines.
The brindled Tiger loud may roar,
High may the hovering Vulture soar,
Alas! regardless of them all,
Soon shall the empurpled glutton sprawl--
Soon, in the desert's hushed repose,
Shall trumpet tidings through his nose!
Alack, unwise! that nasal song
Shall be the Ounce's dinner-gong!
* * * * *
A blemish in the cut appears;
Alas! it cost both blood and tears.
The glancing graver swerved aside,
Fast flowed the artist's vital tide!
And now the apologetic bard
Demands indulgence for his pard!
[Illustration]
_The Angler & the Clown._
The echoing bridge you here may see,
The pouring lynn, the waving tree,
The eager angler fresh from town--
Above, the contumelious clown.
'The angler plies his line and rod,
The clodpole stands with many a nod,--
With many a nod and many a grin,
He sees him cast his engine in.
"What have you caught?" the peasant cries.
"Nothing as yet," the Fool replies.
MORAL TALES
[Illustration]
Rob and Ben
or
The PIRATE and the APOTHECARY.
Scene the First.
[Illustration]
Rob and Ben
or
The PIRATE and the APOTHECARY.
Scene the Second.
[Illustration]
Rob and Ben
or
The PIRATE and the APOTHECARY.
Scene the Third.
ROBIN AND BEN: OR, THE PIRATE AND THE APOTHECARY
Come lend me an attentive ear
A startling moral tale to hear,
Of Pirate Rob and Chemist Ben,
And different destinies of men.
Deep in the greenest of the vales
That nestle near the coast of Wales,
The heaving main but just in view,
Robin and Ben together grew,
Together worked and played the fool,
Together shunned the Sunday school,
And pulled each other's youthful noses
Around the cots, among the roses.
Together but unlike they grew;
Robin was rough, and through and through
Bold, inconsiderate, and manly,
Like some historic Bruce or Stanley.
Ben had a mean and servile soul,
He robbed not, though he often stole.
He sang on Sunday in the choir,
And tamely capped the passing Squire.
At length, intolerant of trammels--
Wild as the wild Bithynian camels,
Wild as the wild sea-eagles--Bob
His widowed dam contrives to rob,
And thus with great originality
Effectuates his personality.
Thenceforth his terror-haunted flight
He follows through the starry night;
And with the early morning breeze,
Behold him on the azure seas.
The master of a trading dandy
Hires Robin for a go of brandy;
And all the happy hills of home
Vanish beyond the fields of foam.
Ben, meanwhile, like a tin reflector,
Attended on the worthy rector;
Opened his eyes and held his breath,
And flattered to the point of death;
And was at last, by that good fairy,
Apprenticed to the Apothecary.
So Ben, while Robin chose to roam,
A rising chemist was at home,
Tended his shop with learned air,
Watered his drugs and oiled his hair,
And gave advice to the unwary,
Like any sleek apothecary.
Meanwhile upon the deep afar
Robin the brave was waging war,
With other tarry desperadoes
About the latitude of Barbadoes.
He knew no touch of craven fear;
His voice was thunder in the cheer;
First, from the main-to'-gallan' high,
The skulking merchantman to spy--
The first to bound upon the deck,
The last to leave the sinking wreck.
His hand was steel, his word was law,
His mates regarded him with awe.
No pirate in the whole profession
Held a more honourable position.
At length, from years of anxious toil,
Bold Robin seeks his native soil;
Wisely arranges his affairs,
And to his native dale repairs.
The Bristol _Swallow_ sets him down
Beside the well-remembered town.
He sighs, he spits, he marks the scene,
Proudly he treads the village green;
And free from pettiness and rancour,
Takes lodgings at the 'Crown and Anchor.'
Strange when a man so great and good,
Once more in his home-country stood,
Strange that the sordid clowns should show
A dull desire to have him go.
His clinging breeks, his tarry hat,
The way he swore, the way he spat,
A certain quality of manner,
Alarming like the pirate's banner--
Something that did not seem to suit all--
Something, O call it bluff, not brutal--
Something at least, howe'er it's called,
Made Robin generally black-balled.
His soul was wounded; proud and glum,
Alone he sat and swigged his rum,
And took a great distaste to men
Till he encountered Chemist Ben.
Bright was the hour and bright the day,
That threw them in each other's way;
Glad were their mutual salutations,
Long their respective revelations.
Before the inn in sultry weather
They talked of this and that together;
Ben told the tale of his indentures,
And Rob narrated his adventures.
Last, as the point of greatest weight,
The pair contrasted their estate,
And Robin, like a boastful sailor,
Despised the other for a tailor.
'See,' he remarked, 'with envy, see
A man with such a fist as me!
Bearded and ringed, and big, and brown,
I sit and toss the stingo down.
Hear the gold jingle in my bag--
All won beneath the Jolly Flag!'
Ben moralised and shook his head:
'You wanderers earn and eat your bread.
The foe is found, beats or is beaten,
And either how, the wage is eaten.
And after all your pully-hauly
Your proceeds look uncommon small-ly.
You had done better here to tarry
Apprentice to the Apothecary.
The silent pirates of the shore
Eat and sleep soft, and pocket more
Than any red, robustious ranger
Who picks his farthings hot from danger.
You clank your guineas on the board;
Mine are with several bankers stored.
You reckon riches on your digits,
You dash in chase of Sals and Bridgets,
You drink and risk delirium tremens,
Your whole estate a common seaman's!
Regard your friend and school companion,
Soon to be wed to Miss Trevanion
(Smooth, honourable, fat and flowery,
With Heaven knows how much land in dowry)
Look at me--am I in good case?
Look at my hands, look at my face;
Look at the cloth of my apparel;
Try me and test me, lock and barrel;
And own, to give the devil his due,
I have made more of life than you.
Yet I nor sought nor risked a life;
I shudder at an open knife;
The perilous seas I still avoided
And stuck to land whate'er betided.
I had no gold, no marble quarry,
I was a poor apothecary,
Yet here I stand, at thirty-eight,
A man of an assured estate.'
'Well,' answered Robin--'well, and how?'
The smiling chemist tapped his brow.
'Rob,' he replied,'this throbbing brain
Still worked and hankered after gain.
By day and night, to work my will,
It pounded like a powder mill;
And marking how the world went round
A theory of theft it found.
Here is the key to right and wrong:
_Steal little but steal all day long_;
And this invaluable plan
Marks what is called the Honest Man.
When first I served with Doctor Pill,
My hand was ever in the till.
Now that I am myself a master
My gains come softer still and faster.
As thus: on Wednesday, a maid
Came to me in the way of trade.
Her mother, an old farmer's wife,
Required a drug to save her life.
'At once, my dear, at once,' I said,
Patted the child upon the head,
Bade her be still a loving daughter,
And filled the bottle up with water.
'Well, and the mother?' Robin cried.
'O she!' said Ben, 'I think she died.'
'Battle and blood, death and disease,
Upon the tainted Tropic seas--
The attendant sharks that chew the cud--
The abhorred scuppers spouting blood--
The untended dead, the Tropic sun--
The thunder of the murderous gun--
The cut-throat crew--the Captain's curse--
The tempest blustering worse and worse--
These have I known and these can stand,
But you, I settle out of hand!'
Out flashed the cutlass, down went Ben
Dead and rotten, there and then.
THE BUILDER'S DOOM
In eighteen twenty Deacon Thin
Feu'd the land and fenced it in,
And laid his broad foundations down
About a furlong out of town.
Early and late the work went on.
The carts were toiling ere the dawn;
The mason whistled, the hodman sang;
Early and late the trowels rang;
And Thin himself came day by day
To push the work in every way.
An artful builder, patent king
Of all the local building ring,
Who was there like him in the quarter
For mortifying brick and mortar,
Or pocketing the odd piastre
By substituting lath and plaster?
With plan and two-foot rule in hand,
He by the foreman took his stand,
With boisterous voice, with eagle glance
To stamp upon extravagance.
Far thrift of bricks and greed of guilders,
He was the Buonaparte of Builders.
The foreman, a desponding creature,
Demurred to here and there a feature:
'For surely, sir--with your permeession--
Bricks here, sir, in the main parteetion...'
The builder goggled, gulped and stared,
The foreman's services were spared.
Thin would not count among his minions
A man of Wesleyan opinions.