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Essential Math for Data Science
Take Control of Your Data with Fundamental Linear
Algebra, Probability, and Statistics

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Thomas Nield
Essential Math for Data Science
by Thomas Nield
Copyright © 2022 Thomas Nield. All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America.
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978-1-098-10293-7
[LSI]
Preface

In the past 10 years or so, there has been a growing interest in applying
math and statistics to our everyday work and lives. Why is that? Does it
have to do with the accelerated interest in “data science” which Harvard
Business Review called “the Sexiest Job of the 21st Century”. Or is it the
promise of machine learning and “artificial intelligence” changing our
lives? Is it because news headlines are inundated with studies, polls, and
research findings, but unsure how to scrutinize such claims? Or is it the
promise of “self-driving” cars and robots automating jobs in the near future
?
I will make the argument that the disciplines of math and statistics have
captured mainstream interest because of the growing availability of data,
and we need math, statistics, and machine learning to make sense of it. Yes,
we do have scientific tools, machine learning, and other automations that
call to us like sirens. We are to blindly trust these “black boxes,” devices
and softwares we do not understand but we use them anyway.
While it is easy to believe computers are smarter than us (and this idea is
frequently marketed), the reality cannot be more the opposite. This
disconnect can be precarious on so many levels. Do you really want an
“algorithm” or “AI” performing criminal sentencing or driving a vehicle,
but nobody including the developer can explain why it came to a specific
decision? Explainability is the next frontier of statistical computing and AI.
This can only begin when we open up the “black box” and uncover the
math.
You may also ask how can a developer not know how their own algorithm
works? We will talk about that in the second half of the book when we
discuss machine learning techniques, and emphasize why we need to
understand the math behind the black boxes we build.
To another point, the reason data is being collected on a massive scale is
largely due to connected devices and their presence in our everyday lives.
We no longer solely use the internet on a desktop or laptop computer. We
now take it with us in our smart phones, cars, and household devices. This
has subtly enabled a transition over the past two decades. Data has now
evolved from an operational tool to something that is collected and
analyzed for less defined objectives. A smartwatch is constantly collecting
data on our heart rate, breathing, walking distance, and other markers. Then
it uploads that data to a cloud to be analyzed alongside other users. Our
driving habits are being collected by computerized cars, and being used by
manufacturers to collect data and enable “self-driving” vehicles. Even
“smart toothbrushes” are finding their way into drug stores, which track
brushing habits and store that data in a cloud. Whether smart toothbrush
data is useful and essential is another discussion!
All of this data collection is permeating every corner of our lives. It can be
overwhelming, and a whole book can be written on privacy concerns and
ethics. But this availability of data also creates opportunities to leverage
math and statistics in new ways, and create more exposure outside
academic environments. We can learn more about the human experience,
improve product design and application, and optimize commercial
strategies. If you understand the ideas presented in this book, you will be
able to unlock the value held in our data-hording infrastructure. This does
not imply that data and statistical tools are a silver bullet to solve all the
world’s problems, but it has given us new tools that we can use. Sometimes
it is just as valuable to recognize certain data projects as rabbit holes, and
realize efforts are better spent elsewhere.
This growing availability of data has made way for “data science” and
“machine learning” to become demanded professions. We define essential
math as an exposure to probability, linear algebra, statistics, and machine
learning. If you are seeking a career in data science, machine learning, or
engineering, these topics are necessary. I will throw in just enough college
math, calculus, and statistics necessary to better understand what goes in the
“black box” libraries you will encounter.
With this book, I aim to give readers an exposure to different mathematical,
statistical, and machine learning areas that will be applicable to real-world
problems. The first four chapters cover foundational math concepts
including practical calculus, probability, linear algebra, and statistics. The
last three chapters will segue into machine learning. The ultimate purpose
of teaching machine learning is to integrate everything we learn, and
demonstrate practical insights in using machine learning and statistical
libraries beyond a “black box” understanding.
The only tool that is needed to follow examples is a Windows/Mac/Linux
computer and a Python 3 environment of your choice. The primary Python
libraries we will need are numpy, scipy, sympy, and sklearn. If you
are unfamiliar with Python, it is a friendly and easy-to-use programming
language with massive learning resources behind it. Here are some I
recommend:

Data Science from Scratch 2nd Edition (O’Reilly) by Joel Grus -

The second chapter of this book has the best crash course in
Python I have encountered. Even if you have never written code
before, Joel does a fantastic job getting you up and running with
Python effectively in the shortest time possible. It is also a great
book to have on your shelf and to apply your mathematical
knowledge!
Python for the Busy Java Developer (Apress) by Deepak Sarda - If
you are a software engineer coming from a statically-typed, object-
oriented programming background, this is the book to grab. As
someone who started programming with Java, I have a deep
appreciation how Deepak shares Python features and relates them
to Java developers. If you have done .NET, C++, or other C-like
languages you will probably learn Python effectively from this
book as well.

This book will not make you an expert or give you PhD knowledge. I do
my best to avoid mathematical expressions full of Greek symbols, and
instead strive to use plain English in its place. But, what this book will do is
make you more comfortable talking about math and statistics, giving you
essential knowledge to navigate these areas successfully. I believe the
widest path to success is not having deep, specialized knowledge in one
topic, but instead having exposure and practical knowledge across several
topics. That is the goal of this book, and you will learn just enough to be
dangerous and ask those once elusive critical questions.
So let’s get started!
Chapter 1. Basic Math and
Calculus Review

A NOTE FOR EARLY RELEASE READERS

With Early Release ebooks, you get books in their earliest form—the
author’s raw and unedited content as they write—so you can take
advantage of these technologies long before the official release of these
titles.
This will be the 1st chapter of the final book.
If you have comments about how we might improve the content and/or
examples in this book, or if you notice missing material within this
chapter, please reach out to the author at [email protected].

We will kick off the first chapter covering what numbers are and how
variables and functions work on a Cartesian system. We will then cover
exponents and logarithms. After that we will learn the two basic operations
of calculus: derivatives and integrals.
Before we dive into the applied areas of essential math such as probability,
linear algebra, statistics, and machine learning, we should probably review
a few basic math and calculus concepts. Before you drop this book and run
screaming, do not worry! I will present how to calculate slopes and areas
for a function in a way you were probably not taught in college. We got
Python on our side, not a pencil and paper.
I will make these topics as tight and practical as possible, focusing only on
what will help us in later chapters and fall under the “essential math”
umbrella.
 THIS IS NOT A FULL MATH CRASH COURSE!
This is by no means a comprehensive review of high school and college math. If you
want that, a great book to check out is No Bullshit Guide to Math and Physics by Ivan
Savov. The first few chapters contain the best crash course on high school and college
math I have ever seen. The book Mathematics 1001 by Dr. Richard Elwes has some
great content as well, and in bite-sized explanations.

Number Theory
What are numbers? I promise to not be too philosophical in this book, but
are numbers not a construct we have defined? Why do we have the digits 0
through 9, and not have more digits than that? Why do we have fractions
and decimals and not just whole numbers? This area of math where we
muse about numbers and why we designed them a certain way is known as
number theory.
Number theory goes all the way back to ancient times, where
mathematicians study different number systems and why we have accepted
them the way we do today. Here are different number systems that you may
recognize:
Natural Numbers
These are the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5… and so on. Only positive numbers
are included here, and are the earliest known system. Natural numbers
are so ancient cavemen scratched tally marks on bones and cave walls
to keep records.

Whole Numbers
Adding to natural numbers, the concept of “0” was later accepted and
we call these “whole numbers.” The Babylonians also developed the
useful idea for place-holding notation for empty “columns” on numbers
greater than 9, such as “10”, “1000”, or “1090.” Those zeros indicate no
value occupying that column.
Integers
Integers include positive and negative whole numbers as well as 0. We
may take them for granted, but ancient mathematicians were deeply
distrusting of the idea of negative numbers. But when you subtract 5
from 3, you get -2. This is useful especially when it comes to finances
where we measure profits and losses. In 628 AD, an Indian
mathematician named Brahmagupta showed why negative numbers
were necessary for arithmetic to progress, and therefore integers became
accepted.

Rational Numbers
Any number that you can express as a fraction, such as , is a rational
2

number. This includes all finite decimals and integers since they can be
expressed as fractions too, such as687

100
= 6. 87 and
2

1
= 2 respectively.

They are called rational because they are ratios. Rational numbers were
quickly deemed necessary bececause because time, resources, and other
quantities could not always be measured in discrete units. Milk does not
always come in gallons. We may have to measure it as parts of a gallon.
If I run for 12 minutes, I cannot be forced to measure in whole miles
when in actuality I ran 9

10
of a mile.

Irrational Numbers
Irrational numbers cannot be expressed as a fraction. This includes the
famous Pi π, square roots of certain numbers like √2, and Euler’s
number e which we will learn about later. These numbers have an
infinite number of decimal digits, such as
π = 3. 141592653589793238462. . .

There is an interesting history behind irrational numbers. The Greek

mathematician Pythagoras believed all numbers are rational. He
believed this so fervently, he made a religion that prayed to the number
10. "Bless us, divine number, thou who generated gods and men!" he
and his followers would pray (why “10” was so special, I do not know).
 There is a legend that one of his followers Hippasusus proved not all
numbers are rational simply by demonstrating the square root of 2. This
severely messed with Pythagoras’ belief system, and he responded by
drowning Hippasus out at sea.
Regardless, we now know not all numbers are rational.

Real Numbers
Real numbers include rational as well as irrational numbers. In
practicality, when you are doing any data science work you can treat
any decimals you work with as real numbers.

Complex and Imaginary Numbers

You encounter this number type when you take the square root of a
negative number. While imaginary and complex numbers have
relevance in certain types of problems, we will mostly steer clear from
them for our purposes

In data science, you will find most (if not all) your work will be using
natural numbers, integers, and real numbers. Imaginary numbers may be
encountered in more advanced use cases such as matrix decomposition,
which we will touch on in Chapter 4.

COMPLEX AND IMAGINARY NUMBERS

If you do want to learn about imaginary numbers, there is a great playlist Imaginary
Numbers are Real on YouTube here: https://youtu.be/T647CGsuOVU.

Order of Operations
Hopefully you are familiar with order of operations which is the order you
solve each part of a mathematical expression. As a brief refresher, recall
you evaluate components in parantheses, followed by exponents, then
multiplication, division, addition, and subtraction. You can remember the
order of operations by the mnemonic device PEMDAS (Please Excuse My
Dear Aunt Sally) which corresponds to the ordering paranthesis, exponents,
multiplication, division, addition, and subtraction.
Take for example this expression:
2
(3 + 2)
2* − 4
5

First we evaluate the paranetheses (3 + 2) which evaluates to 5.

2
(5)
2* − 4
5

Next we solve the exponent, which we can see is squaring that 5 we just
summed. That is 25.

25
2* − 4
5

Next up we have multiplication and division. The ordering of these two is

swappable since division is also multiplication (using fractions). Let’s go
ahead and multiply the 2 with the , yielding
25

5
50

50
− 4
5

Next we will perform the division, dividing 50 by 5 which will yield 10.

10 − 4

And finally we perform any addition and subtraction. Of course, 10 − 4 is

going to give us 6.
10 − 4 = 6

Sure enough, if we were to express this in Python we would print a value of

6.0 as shown in Example 1-1.
Example 1-1. Solving an expression in Python
my_value = 2 * (3 + 2)**2 / 5 - 4

print(my_value) # prints 6.0

This may be elementary to you, but it is still criticial nonetheless. In code,

even if you get the correct result without them, it is a good practice to
liberally use paranthesis in complex expressions so you establish control of
the evaluation order.
Here I group up the fractional part of my expression in paranthesis, helping
to set it apart from the rest of the expression in Example 1-2.
Example 1-2. Making use of paranthesis for clarity in Python
my_value = 2 * ((3 + 2)**2 / 5) - 4

print(my_value) # prints 6.0

While both examples are technically correct, the latter one is more clear to
us easily confused humans. If you or someone else makes changes to your
code, the paranthesis provide an easy reference of operation order as you
make changes. This provides a line of defense against code changes to
prevent bugs as well.

Variables
If you have done some scripting with Python or another programming
language, you have an idea what a variable is. In mathematics, a variable is
a named placeholder for an unspecified or unknown number.
You may have a variable x representing any real number, and you can
multiply that variable without declaring what it is. In Example 1-3 we take
a variable input x from a user, and multiply it by 3.
Example 1-3. A variable in Python that is then multiplied
x = int(input("Please input a number\n"))

product = 3 * x
print(product)

There are some standard variable names for certain variable types. If these
variable names and concepts are unfamiliar, no worries! But the rest of you
readers might recognize we use theta θ to denote angles and beta β for a
parameter in a linear regression. Greek symbols make awkward variable
names in Python, so we would likely name these variables theta and
beta in Python as shown in Example 1-4.
Example 1-4. Greek variable names in Python
beta = 1.75
theta = 30.0

Note also that variable names can be subscripted so that several instances of
a variable name can be used. For practical purposes, just treat these as
separate variables. If you encounter variables x1, x2, and x3, just treat them
as three separate variables as shown in Example 1-5.
Example 1-5. Expressing subscripted variables in Python
x1 = 3 # or x_1 = 3
x2 = 10 # or x_2 = 10
x3 = 44 # or x_3 = 44

Functions
Functions are expressions that define relationships between two or more
variables. More specifically, a function takes input variables (also called
domain variables or independent variables), plugs them into an
expression, and then results in an output variable (also called dependent
variable).
Take this simple linear function y = 2x + 1. For any given x value, we
solve the expression with that x to find y. When x = 1, then y = 3. When x =
2, y = 5. When x = 3, y = 7 and so on as shown in Table 1-1.

y = 2x + 1
T
a
b
l
e
1
-
1
.
D
if
f
e
r
e
n
t
v
a
l
u
e
s
f
o
r
y
=

2
x
+

1
x 2x + 1 y

0 2(0) + 1 1

1 2(1) + 1 3

2 2(2) + 1 5

3 2(3) + 1 7

Functions are useful because they help predict the relationship between
variables, such as how many fires y can we expect at x temperature. We will
use linear functions to perform linear regressions in Chapter 5.
Another convention you may see for the dependent variable y is to
explicitly label it a function of x, such as f (x). So rather than express a
function as y = 2x + 1 we can also express it as:

f (x) = 2x + 1

Example 1-6 shows how we can declare a mathematical function and iterate
it in Python.
Example 1-6. Declaring a linear function in Python
def f(x):
return 2 * x + 1

x_values = [0, 1, 2, 3]

for x in x_values:
y = f(x)
print(y)

When dealing with real numbers, a subtle but important feature of functions
is they often have an infinite number of x values and resulting y values. Ask
yourself this: how many x values can we put through the function
y = 2x + 1 ? Rather than just 0, 1, 2, 3… why not 0, .5, 1, 1.5, 2, 2.5, 3 as
shown in Table 1-2 below?
T
a
b
l
e
1
-
2
.
D
if
f
e
r
e
n
t
v
a
l
u
e
s
f
o
r
y
=

2
x
+

1
x 2x + 1 y

0.0 2(0) + 1 1

0.5 2(.5) + 1 2

1.0 2(1) + 1 3

1.5 2(1.5) + 1 4

2.0 2(2) + 1 5

2.5 2(2.5) + 1 6

3.0 2(3) + 1 7

Or why not do quarter steps for x? 1

10
of a step? We can make these steps
infinitely small effectively showing y = 2x + 1 is a continuous function,
where for every possible value of x there is a value for y. This segues us
nicely to visualize our function as a line as shown in Figure 1-1.
Figure 1-1. Graph for function y = 2x + 1
When we plot on a two-dimensional plane with two number lines (one for
each variable) it is known as a Cartesian plane, x-y plane, or coordinate
plane. We trace a given x value and then look up the corresponding y value,
and plot the intersections as a line. Notice that due to the nature of real
numbers (or decimals, if you prefer), there are an infinite number of x
values. This is why when we plot the function f(x) we get a continuous
line with no breaks in it. There are an infinite number of points on that line,
or any part of that line.
If you want to plot this using Python, there are a number of charting
libraries from Plotly to matplotlib. However, SymPy gives us a quick, clean
way to plot a function. It uses matplotlib so make sure you have that
package installed, otherwise it will print an ugly text-based graph to your
console. After that, just declare the x variable to SymPy using
symbols(), declare your function, and then plot it as shown in
Example 1-7 and Figure 1-2.
Example 1-7. Charting a linear function in Python using SymPy
from sympy import *

x = symbols('x')
f = 2*x + 1
plot(f)
 Figure 1-2. Using SymPy to graph a linear function

Example 1-8 and Figure 1-3 are another example showing the function
y = x + 1.
2

Example 1-8. Charting a linear function in Python using SymPy

from sympy import *

x = symbols('x')
f = x**2 + 1
plot(f)
 Figure 1-3. Using SymPy to graph an exponential function

Notice in Figure 1-3 we do not get a straight line but rather a smooth,
symmetrical curve known as a parabola. It is continuous but not linear, as it
does not produce values in a straight line. Curvy functions like this are
mathematically harder to work with, but we will learn some tricks to make
it not so bad.

CURVILINEAR FUNCTIONS
When a function is continuous but curvy, rather than linear and straight, we call it a
curvilinear function.

Note that functions can utilize multiple input variables and not just one. For
example, we can have a function with independent variables x and y. Note
that y is not dependent like in previous examples.

f (x, y) = 2x + 3y

Since we have 2 independent variables (x and y) and 1 dependent variable

(the output of f(x,y)) we need to plot this graph on 3 dimensions to
produce a plane of values rather than a line as shown in Example 1-9 and
Figure 1-4.
Example 1-9. Declaring a function with 2 independent variables in Python:
from sympy import *
from sympy.plotting import plot3d

x, y = symbols('x y')
f = 2*x + 3*y
plot3d(f)

Figure 1-4. Using SymPy to graph a 3-dimensional function

No matter how many independent variables you have, your function will
typically only output one dependent variable. When you solve for multiple
dependent variables, you will likely be using separate functions for each
one.

Summations
I promised not to use equations full of Greek symbols in this book.
However, there is one that is so common and useful that it would be remiss
to not cover it. A summation is expressed as a sigma Σ and adds elements
together.
For example, if I wanted to iterate the numbers 1 through 5, multiply each
by 2, and sum them here is how I would express that using a summation.
Example 1-10 shows how to execute this in Python.
5

∑ 2i

i=1

= (2)1 + (2)2 + (2)3 + (2)4 + (2)5 = 30

Example 1-10. Performing a summation in Python

summation = sum(2*i for i in range(1,6))
print(summation)

Note that i is a placeholder variable representing each consecutive index

value we are iterating in the loop, which we multiply by 2 and then sum all
together. When you are iterating data, you may see variables like x i

indicating an element in a collection at index i.

THE RANGE() FUNCTION

Recall that the range() function in Python is end exclusive, meaning if you invoke
range(1,4) it will iterate the numbers 1, 2, and 3. It excludes the 4 as an upper
boundary.
It is also common to see n represent the number of items in a collection,
like the number of records in a dataset. Here is one such example where we
iterate a collection of numbers of size n, multiply each one by 10, and sum
them.
n

∑ 10x i

i=1

In Example 1-11 we use Python we execute this expression on a collection

of 4 numbers. Note that in Python (and most programming languages in
general) we typically reference items starting at index 0, while in math we
start at index 1. Therefore we shift accordingly in our iteration by starting at
0 in our range().
Example 1-11. Summation of elements in Python
x = [1, 4, 6, 2]
n = len(x)

summation = sum(10*x[i] for i in range(0,n))

print(summation)

That is the gist of summation. In a nutshell, a summation Σ says “add a

bunch of things together” and uses an index i and a maximum value n to
express each iteration feeding into the sum. We will see them in almost
every other chapter in this book.
 SUMMATIONS IN SYMPY
Later in this chapter we will earn about SymPy, a symbolic math
library. Here’s a sidebar for reference. A summation operation in
SymPy is performed using the Sum() operator. Below in Example 1-12
we iterate i from 1 through n, multiply each i, and sum them. But then
we use the subs() function to specify n as 5, which will then iterate
and sum all i elements from 1 through n.
Example 1-12.
from sympy import *

i,n = symbols('i n')

# iterate each element i from 1 to n,

# then multiply and sum
summation = Sum(2*i,(i,1,n))

# specify n as 5,
# iterating the numbers 1 through 5
up_to_5 = summation.subs(n, 5)
print(up_to_5.doit()) # 30

Note that summations in SymPy are lazy, meaning they do not

automatically calculate or get simplified. So use the doit() function
to execute the expression.

Exponents
Exponents multiplies a number by itself a specified number of times. When
you raise 2 to the 3rd power (expressed as 2 using 3 as a superscript), that
3

is multiplying three 2’s together:

3
2 = 2*2*2 = 8

The base is the variable or value we are exponentiating, and the exponent
is the number of times we multiply the base value. For the expression 2 , 2
3

is the base and 3 is the exponent.

Exponents have a few interesting properties. Say we multiplied x and x 2 3

together. Observe what happens below when I expand the exponents with
simple multiplication, and then consolidate into a single exponent:
2 3 2+3 5
x x = (x*x)*(x*x*x) = x = x

When we multiply exponents together with the same base, we simply add
the exponents which is known as the product rule. Note that the base of all
multiplied exponents must be the same for the product rule to apply.
Let’s explore division next. What happens when we divide x by x ? 2 5

2
x

5
x

x*x

x*x*x*x*x

x*x*x

1
−3
= x
3
x

As you can see above, when we divide x by x we can cancel out two x’s
2 5

in numerator and denominator, leaving us with . Without tangenting into

x
1
3

algebra rules too much, here is what happens. When a factor exists in both
the numerator and denominator, we can cancel out that factor.
This is a good point to introduce negative exponents, which is another way
of expressing an exponent operation in the denominator of a fraction. To
demonstrate, 1

x
is the same as x .
3
−3

1 −3
= x
3
x

Tying back the product rule, we can see it applies to negative exponents too.
To get intuition behind this, let’s approach this problem a different way. We
can express this division of two exponents by making the “5” exponent of
x negative, and then multiplying it with x . When you add a negative
5 2

number, it is effectively performing subtraction. Therefore, the exponent

product rule summing the multiplied exponenents still holds up as shown
below:
2
x 2
1 2 −5 2+−5 −3
x = x x = x = x
5 5
x x

SIMPLIFY EXPRESSIONS WITH SYMPY

If you get uncomfortable with simplifying algebraic expressions, you
can use the SymPy library to do the work for you. Example 1-13 shows
how to simplify our previous example.
Example 1-13.
from sympy import *

x = symbols('x')
expr = x**2 / x**5
print(expr) # x**(-3)

Now what about fractional exponents? They are just an alternative way to
represent roots, such as the square root. As a brief refresher, a square root of
4 asks “what number multiplied by itself will give me 4?”, which of course
is 2. Note here that 4 is the same as √4.
1/2

1/2
4 = √4 = 2

Cubed roots are similar to square roots, but they seek a number multiplied
by itself 3 times to give a result. A cubed root of 8 is expressed as √8, and 3

asks “what number multiplied by itself 3 times gives me 8”? This number
would be 2 because 2*2*2 = 8. In exponents, a cubed root is expressed as a
fractional exponent, and √8 can be re-expressed as 8 .
3 1/3

1/3 3
8 = √8 = 2
To bring it back full circle, what happens when you multiply the cubed root
of 8 three times? This will undo the cubed root and yield us 8.
Alternatively, if we express the cubed root as fractional exponenents 8 , it 1/3

becomes clear we add the exponents together to get an exponent of 1. That

also undoes the cubed root.
1 1 1 1 1 1
3 3 3 + + 1
√ 8*√ 8*√ 8 = 8 3
× 8 3
*8 3
= 8 3 3 3
= 8 = 8

And one last property: with an exponent of an exponent, that would

multiply the exponents together. This is known as the power rule. So (8
2
3
)

would simplify to 8 .6

2
3 3*2 6
(8 ) = 8 = 8

If you are skeptical why this is, try expanding it and you will see the sum
rule makes it clear:
2
3 3 3 3+3 6
(8 ) = 8 8 = 8 = 8

Lastly, what does it mean when we have a fractional exponent with a

numerator other than 1, such as 8 ? Well that is taking the cube root of 8
2

and then squaring it. Take a look below:

2 1
2
2
8 3
= (8 3
) = 2 = 4

And yes, irrational numbers can serve as exponents like 8 which is π

687.2913. This may feel unintuitive, and understandably so! In the interest
of time we will not dive deep into this as it requires some Calculus. But
essentially, we can calculate irrational exponents by approximating with a
rational number. This is effectively what computers do since they can only
compute to so many decimal places anyway.
For example Pi π has an infinite number of decimal places. But if we take
the first 11 digits, 3.1415926535, we can approximate Pi as a rational
number 31415926535 / 10000000000. Sure enough, this gives us
approximately 687.2913 which should approximately match any calculator.
31415926535
π
8 ≈ 8 10000000000
≈ 687. 2913

Logarithms
A logarithm is a math function that finds a power for a specific number
and base. It may not sound interesting at first, but it actually has many
applications. From measuring earthquakes to managing volume on your
stereo, the logarithm is found everywhere. It also finds its way into machine
learning and data science a lot. As a matter of fact, logarithms will be a key
part of logistic regressions in Chapter 6.
Start your thinking by asking “2 raised to what power gives me 8?” One
way to express this mathematically is to use an x for the exponent:
x
2 = 8

We intuitively know the answer, x = 3, but we need a more elegant way to

express this common math operation. This is what the log() function is for.

log 2 8 = x

As you can see in the logarithm expression above, we have a base 2 and are
finding a power to give us 8. More generally, we can re-express a variable
exponent as a logarithm:
x
a = b

log a b = x

Algebraically speaking, this is a way of isolating the x which is important to

solve for x.
Example 1-14 shows how we calculate this logarithm in Python.
Example 1-14. Using the log function in Python:
from math import log

# 2 raised to what power gives me 8?

x = log(8, 2)

print(x) # prints 3.0

When you do not supply a base argument to a log() function on a

platform like Python, it will typically have a default base. In some fields,
like earthquake measurements, the default base for the log is 10, but in data
science, the default base for the log is Euler’s number e. Python uses the
latter and we will talk about e shortly.
Just like exponents, logarithms have several properties when it comes to
multiplication, division, exponentiation, and so on. In the interest of time
and focus, I will just present this table below in Table 1-3. The key idea to
focus on is a logarithm finds an exponent for a given base to result in a
certain number.
If you need need to dive into logarithmic properties, Table 1-3 displays
exponent and logarithm behaviors side-by-side you can use for reference.
T
a
b
l
e
1
-
3
.
P
r
o
p
e
r
t
i
e
s
f
o
r
E
x
p
o
n
e
n
t
s
a
n
d
L
o
g
a
r
i
t
h
m
s

Operator Exponent Property Logarithm Property

Multiplication x
m
*x
n
= x
m+n
log(a*b) = log(a) + log(b)

Division
m
x m−n a
n = x log ( ) = log (a) − log (b)
x b

Exponentiation (x
m
)
n
= x
mn
log (a
n
) = n*log (a)

Zero Exponent x
0
= 1 log(1) = 0

Inverse x
−1
=
1

x
log (x
−1
) = log(
1

x
= −log (x)

Euler’s Number and Natural Logarithms

There is a special number that shows up quite a bit in math called Euler’s
number e. It is a special number much like Pi π, and is approximately
2.71828. e is used a lot because it mathematically simplifies a lot of
problems.
Back in high school, my Calculus teacher demonstrated Euler’s number in
several exponential problems. Finally I asked “Mr. Nowe, what is e
anyway? Where does it come from?” I remember never being fully satisfied
with the explanations involving rabbit populations and other natural
phenomena. I hope to give a more satisfying explanation here.
 WHY EULER’S NUMBER IS USED SO MUCH
Another property of Euler’s number is its exponential function is a
derivative to itself, which is convenient for exponential and logarithmic
functions. We will learn about derivatives later in this chapter. In many
applications where the base does not really matter, we pick the one that
results in the simplest derivative, and that is Euler’s number. That is
also why it is the default base in many data science functions.

Here is how I like to discover Euler’s number. Let’s say you loan $100 to
somebody with 20% interest annually. Typically interest will be
compounded monthly, so the interest each month would be
. 20/12 =. 01666. How much will the loan balance be after two years? To

keep it simple, let’s assume the loan does not require payments (and no
payments are made) until the end of those two years.
Putting together the exponent concepts we learned so far (or perhaps pulling
it out a finance textbook), we can come up with a formula to calculate
interest. It consists of a balance A for a starting investment P, interest rate r,
time span t (number of years), and periods n (number of months in each
year). Here it is as follows:
nt
r
A = P × (1 + )
n

So if we were to compound interest every month, the loan would grow to

$148.69 as calculated below:
nt
r
A = P *(1 + )
n

12*2
. 20
100*(1 + ) = 148. 6914618
12

If you want to do this in Python, try it out with the code in Example 1-15.
Example 1-15. Calculating compound interest in Python
from math import exp

p = 100
r = .20
t = 2.0
n = 12

a = p * (1 + (r/n))**(n * t)

print(a) # prints 148.69146179463576

But what if we compounded interest daily? What happens then? Change n

to 365.
nt
r
A = P *(1 + )
n

365*2
. 20
100*(1 + ) = 149. 1661279
365

Huh! If we compound our interest daily instead of monthly, we would earn

47.4666 cents more at the end of two years. If we got greedy why not
compound every hour as shown below? Will that give us even more? There
are 8760 hours in a year, so set n to that value:
nt
r
A = P *(1 + )
n

8760*2
. 20
100*(1 + ) = 149. 1817886
8760

Ah, we squeezed out roughly 2 cents more in interest! But are we

experiencing a diminishing return? Let’s try to compound every minute!
Note that there are 525,600 minutes in a year, so let’s set that value to n:
nt
r
A = P *(1 + )
n
 525600*2
. 20
100*(1 + ) = 149. 1824584
525600

Okay we are only gaining smaller and smaller fractions of a cent the more
frequently we compound. So if I keep making these periods infinitely
smaller to the point of compounding continuously, where does this lead to?
Let me introduce you to Euler’s number e, which is approximately 2.71828.
Here is the formula to compound “continuously,” meaning we are
compounding nonstop:
rt
A = P *e

Returning to our example, let’s calculate the balance of our loan after 2
years if we compounded continuously:
rt
A = P *e

.20*2
A = 100*e = 149. 1824698

Okay this is not too surpising considering compounding every minute got
us a balance of 149.1824584. That got us really close to our value of
149.1824698 when compounding continuously.
Typically you use e as an exponent base in Python, Excel, and other
platforms using the exp() function. You will find that e is so commonly
used, it is the default base for both exponent and logarithm functions.
Example 1-16 calculates continuous interest in Python using the exp()
function.
Example 1-16. Calculating continuous interest in Python
from math import exp

p = 100 # principal, starting amount

r = .20 # interest rate, by year
t = 2.0 # time, number of years

a = p * exp(r*t)
print(a) # prints 149.18246976412703

So where do we derive this constant e? Compare the compounding interest

formula and the continuous interest formula. They structurally look similar,
but with some differences:
nt
r
A = P *(1 + )
n

rt
A = P *e

More technically speaking, e is the resulting value of the expression

n
(1 +
1

n
) as n forever gets bigger and bigger, thus approaching infinity.
Try experimenting with increasingly large values for n. By making it larger
and larger you will notice something:
n
1
(1 + )
n

100
1
(1 + ) = 2. 70481382942
100

1000
1
(1 + ) = 2. 71692393224
1000

10000
1
(1 + ) = 2. 71814592682
10000

10000000
1
(1 + ) = 2. 71828169413
10000000

As you make n larger, there is a diminishing return and it converges

approximately on the value 2.71828, which is our value e. You will find this
number e used not just in studying populations and their growth. It plays a
key role in many areas of mathematics.
Later in the book, we will use it to build normal distributions in Chapter 3
and logistic regressions in Chapter 6.

Natural Logarithms
When we use e as our base for a logarithm, we call it a natural logarithm.
Depending on the platform, we may use ln() instead of log() to specify
a natural logarithm. So rather than express a natural logarithm expressed as
log 10 to find the power raised on e to get 10, we would shorthand it as
e

ln(10).

log e 10 = ln (10)

However in Python, a natural logarithm is specified by the log() function.

As said earlier, the default base for the log() function is e. Just leave the
second argument for the base empty and it will default to using e as the base
shown in Example 1-17.
Example 1-17. Calculating natural logarithm of 10 in Python
from math import log

# e raised to what power gives us 10?

x = log(10)

print(x) # prints 2.302585092994046

We will use e in a number of places throughout this book. Feel free to

experiment with exponents and logarithms for awhile using Excel, Python,
Desmos.com, or any other calculation platform of your choice. Make
graphs and get comfortable with functions!

Limits
As we have seen with Euler’s number, some interesting ideas emerge when
we forever increase or decrease an input variable and the output variable
keeps approaching a value but never reaching it. Let’s formally explore this
idea.
Take this function which is plotted in Figure 1-5:
1
f (x) =
x

Figure 1-5. A function that forever approaches 0 in either direction but never reaches 0

We are only looking at positive x values. Notice that as x forever increases

f(x) gets closer to 0. Fascinatingly, f(x) never actually reaches 0. It just
forever keeps getting closer.
Therefore, the fate of this function is as x forever extends into infinity, it
will keep getting closer to 0 but never reach 0. The way we express a value
that is forever being approached, but never reached, is through a limit.
1
lim = 0
x→∞ x
The way we read this is “as x approaches infinity, the function 1/x
approaches 0 (but never reaches 0).” You will see this kind of “approach but
never touch” behavior a lot especially when we dive into derivatives and
integrals.
Using SymPy, we can calculate what value we approach for f (x) = 1

x
as x
approaches infinity ∞.
Example 1-18. Using SymPy to calculate limits
from sympy import *

x = symbols('x')
f = 1 / x
result = limit(f, x, oo)

print(result) # 0

As you have seen, we discovered Euler’s number e this way too. It is the
result of forever extending n into infinity for this function.
n
1
lim (1 + ) = e = 2. 71828169413. . .
n→∞ n

Funny enough, when we calculate Euler’s number with limits in SymPy

(shown in Example 1-19), SymPy immediately recognizes it as Euler’s
Number. We can call evalf() so we can actually display it as a number.
Example 1-19.
from sympy import *

n = symbols('n')
f = (1 + (1/n))**n
result = limit(f, n, oo)

print(result) # E
print(result.evalf()) # 2.71828182845905
 THE POWER OF SYMPY
SymPy is a powerful and fantastic computer algebra system (CAS) for
Python that uses exact symbolic computation rather than approximate
computation using decimals. It’s helpful for those situations you would
use “pencil and paper” to solve math and Calculus problems, with the
benefit of using familiar Python syntax. Rather than represent the
square root of 2 by approximating 1.4142135623730951, it will
preserve it as exactly sqrt(2).
So why not use SymPy for everything math-related? While we will use
it throughout this book, it is important to still be comfortable doing
Python math with plain decimals, as SciKit-Learn and other data
science libraries take this approach. It is much faster for computers to
use decimals rather than symbols. But keep SymPy in your back pocket
as your advantage, and do not tell your high school and college-age kids
about it. They can literally use it to do their math homework.
https://docs.sympy.org/latest/tutorial/intro.html

Derivatives
Let’s go back to talking about functions and look at them from a Calculus
perspective, starting with derivatives. A derivative tells the slope of a
function, and it is useful to measure the rate of change at any point in a
function.
Why do we care about derivatives? They are often used in machine learning
and other mathematical algorithms, especially with gradient descent. When
the slope is 0, that means we are at the minimum or maximum of an output
variable. This concept will be useful later when we do linear regression,
logistic regression, and neural networks.
But let’s start with a simple example. A derivative provides the slope at that
given x value. Let’s take a look at the function f (x) = x in Figure 1-6.
2
How “steep” is the curve at x = 2?
Figure 1-6. Observing steepness at a given part of the function
Other documents randomly have
different content
cheering beams once more upon the rippling waters; and, as the
willows on the banks of the noble Trent waved in the gentle breeze,
and the rich meadows on the border of the river sent forth their
reviving fragrance, Zed lifted up his head, while his hand plied the
oar, and in the fulness of a happy heart thus opened the
conversation for the day:—
"Well, I wouldn't change places with the king on his throne, Phil;
I don't believe there's a happier pair than you and I, Phil, in the wide
world. And yet, now, as wild a scheme as that was of mine last
night, I cannot help wishing, this morning, that we had some o' that
gold at this moment. I could like to try my hand, Phil, as old and
inexperienced as it is in such work, at making some part of the world
happier."
"And so could I, Zed," said Phil; "and now don't you think that
my godmother's grandfather's plan of dividing the land would be a
good one, and tend to make the world happier, if it were carried into
effect?"
"The deuce is in you, Phil, for always bringing up that plan of
your godmother's grandfather!" said old Zed; "why, the plan may be
good enough, Phil; but how can it be brought about?"
"How can you get the gold?" retorted Phil.
"Good!" said Zed, with a hearty laugh; "i'faith, Phil, one scheme
is as likely to be brought about as the other: but, take hold of that
end o' the net, Phil, for I see a famous pike or two, darting about;
and, you know, we must try to get something to-day."
The net was thrown out, but failed; and, what was most
unusual, the labour of Zed and Phil was continued for several hours
without the capture even of a solitary eel. Phil often thought Zed
threw out the net very wildly, and imagined the liquor he took at the
wedding had not yet spent its effects on him; but the blind man
could not be sure, for Zed seemed resolutely taciturn.
'Twas about ten in the forenoon that Phil felt the little boat was
"brought up,"—he thought in an inlet, or small creek, on the Lindsey
side of the Trent, after they had laboured with nets and lines ever
since a little after sunrise, and all without a single instance of
success.——
"Phil, d'ye know why I've pulled in here this morning?" said Zed,
as he was mooring the skiff.
"No, by'r leddy!" answered the old-fashioned fiddler, "I can't tell,
for the life of me! but it seems to me that you've pulled in at Burton
Folly,—have you not, Zed? and what's the meaning of it?"
"Look sharp, Phil!" said Zed, briskly helping Phil out of the boat,
"we've had hard luck in the water this morning, but we'll try our luck
on land for once: we'll have one or two of 'Squire Hutton's pheasants
before we leave the holt."
"'Don't say so till you're sure!'" said Phil, for that was a common
saying with him, as I hinted before; "I wish I could look sharp, as
you bid me, Zed,—for I'll be hanged if you are not tearing my poor
legs among the whins, like old pork, as the saying goes."
"The deuce I am!" exclaimed Zed, slackening his pace; "I
wouldn't hurt you, for all the world, Phil: but you know it's worth
while trying to catch a pheasant or two,—they're such fine game."
"I don't know, Zed," rejoined Phil, "whether it be worth while or
not: we may get into a scrape by it, as old as we are, and——"
"Pshaw!" cried Zed, with an air of resolute contempt; "come
along, Phil!—come along!"
"O come along, ay!" said Phil; "I shall go with you, if you go to
the very devil!—but then I don't see what's the use of going there,
yet,—as old 'Squire Pimpleface used to say, when he gave up playing
cards at Saturday midnight, and refused, ever after to play on
Sunday mornings——"
"Hush!" said Zed, stopping short,—"my eyes! why, that must be
the gamekeeper! No, it isn't:—but we had better lie down, Phil."
 "Down be it then!" said Phil, prostrating himself among the long
grass, while the old fisherman followed his example.
"Now, tell me," continued the fiddler, in a whisper, as they lay
along among the grass, and the fisherman was anxiously keeping
the look-out,—"tell me how you intend to catch the pheasants, Zed:
you know you've no gun; and you can't catch 'em with a net in open
day,—besides you haven't brought the net out of the boat, have
you?"
"Pooh!" replied Zed, "why, I've heard my father say that 'Squire
Hutton's pheasants used to be as tame as bantam cocks, even in his
time. We may catch 'em, bless your soul! ay, easily! And, if not, I'm
sure I could hit one and knock it down with my hat."
The blind fiddler burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter on
hearing this artless declaration from his ancient companion.
"Zowks, Zed!" he exclaimed at last, "thou hast got some wild
maggots, for sure, into thy head this morning! prythee look out
again, and see if the coast be clear; for the sooner we shove off in
the boat again the better, I'm very sartain."
"Confound that fellow! he's coming this way," said Zed, in a
voice of alarm. And, indeed, there now seemed to be cause for fear,
seeing that a tall man, with a gun on his shoulder, was hastening
down the hill, apparently in a direction towards the foolish hiding-
place of the fiddler and the fisherman.
"What shall we do, Phil?" asked Zed, in the next breath.
"Cut and run!" cried Phil, and sprung up as nimbly as a hare
when you stumble upon her seat.
"Come along, then!" said Zed; and, seizing his blind companion
by the hand, away they galloped, as fast as their old limbs would
wag down the declivity, to the boat.
Zed pushed Phil, head over heels, into the skiff, and, jumping in
himself, scudded away out of the creek as fast as he could possibly
"scull," or turn the oar, at the boat's stern, after the manner of a
screw, in the water. The gamekeeper came up the water-side, and
approached within a few yards of the boat, before the adventurers
could make their way back into the broad Trent.
"You are two very old men," said he, lifting up his hand in a
warning manner, "or I would certainly detain you, and have you
indicted for trespass. Take care you are never found here again!"
Neither of the old men made a word of reply; and the
gamekeeper walked away.
"Detained us!—would he?" said Zed, in a low, but contemptuous
tone, as soon as they had gained the breadth of the river, and the
gamekeeper was sufficiently out of hearing,—"how could he have
done that, if he had tried, think you, Phil?"
"Never mind talking about that, Zed,—let us be content with
having got out of a scrape," answered blind Phil: "but now tell me,
Zed," he continued, putting an oar on one side of the boat, and
taking his share of labour with as easy naturalness as if he had
possessed the most perfect eyesight,—"what it could be that put
such a wild notion into your head as to lead you to think of catching
a pheasant with your hand, or of knocking it down with your hat:—
why didn't you take a bit o' salt to throw on its tail, Zed?" concluded
the fiddler, and burst into another fit of helpless laughter.
"He—he—he!" said the fisherman, forcing a faint laugh, to
conceal his shame and vexation;—"never mind,—never mind that,
Phil!" he said,—"my old head gets weak, or I might ha' been sure it
would be a fool's errand. Was not it a mighty piece of impudence in
that thief of a gamekeeper, think you, to tell us he had a mind to
indict us for 'trespass,' as the Jack-in-office called it?—what harm
could we do, Phil, by just trampling among the grass for a few
minutes?"
"Poor folks are not allowed to tread upon rich folks' land, you
know, Zed, without their leave," said the fiddler.
"No; but isn't it hard that there should be such a law, Phil?" said
the fisherman.
 "Why, as for that, Zed," replied Phil, "my godmother's
grandfather,—who, my godmother used to tell me, was a famous
scholar in his day,—used to say that all the land belonged to every
body, and that nobody ought ever to have called an acre his own, in
particular. If that had been the case, you see, Zed, the gamekeeper
could not have threatened to indict you and me for trespass this
morning."
"No more he could, Phil," rejoined Zed; "but, then, if the land
belonged to every body,—in such a way that nobody could say an
acre belonged to him, only,—why, how would the land be ploughed
and the grain sown,—for you know the old saying, Phil, 'What's
every body's business is nobody's business?'"
"My godmother's grandfather used to say that people ought to
join in companies to do it," replied Phil: "it's a subject I am not
master of to the extent he was, by all account; but I feel sure of one
thing, Zed,—that the world could not have been much worse divided
than it is at present, since the rich have so much land among them,
and the poor have none."
"You are right there, Phil, beyond a grain o'doubt," rejoined Zed.
"And my godmother's grandfather used to say besides,"
continued the fiddler, "that God Almighty gave the world to every
body, and that the rich had stolen the poor's share of the land—for
God Almighty never left them destitute."
"Then, in that case, Phil," said the fisherman, "there is a share,
each, belonging to you and to me: and then it seems doubly hard to
be told, when your own share has been stolen from you, that you
shall be indicted for trespassing upon the land of one that has more
than his share—doesn't it, Phil?"
"Right, Zed, right!" returned Phil; "I'm pleased to find you relish
a bit of sensible talk, now and then; and can you deny, now, that
that plan of my godmother's grandfather would be a real good one,
and tend to make every body happy. Place all the folks in the world
on a level, Zed,—and let every man take his fair share in ploughing
and tilling, you know, Zed,—and then let every man share in cutting
the corn,—and all would have a fair title to eat it. You must see this
to be fair—quite fair, Zed?"
"Fair enough, no doubt," replied the fisherman; "but then, Phil,—
as I always ask you, but you never answer me,—how can you
contrive to bring all this about?"
"Nay, now, you don't argue fair!" answered Phil; and it was the
only answer he had, like many more learned proposers of good
theories.
"A plague on all such gibberish!" exclaimed Zed, "we shall want
but a small share of any thing long, and if we don't get our fair six
feet of land when we have done sailing, why, we can rest very well
in Davy Jones's locker. Where's the use of bothering our old brains
with such crabbed matters?"
"Ods bobs and bodikins!" replied Phil, "but I think you are about
right, Zed: I must own it's only a simple sort of a thing for you and I
to be troubling our heads about great folks and their lands."
"I' faith, you talk sense, Phil!" said Zed; "confound the great
folks! let 'em take their land! We've managed to push along through
threescore summers and more, and we can manage to get through,
I think, now. But, swape in, Phil! for we're just alongside
Littleborough again, and I'm so hungry that I feel inclined to step on
shore, and ask for a bite of the wedding-cake this morning: I'll
warrant 'em they'll be keeping up the merriment yet."
"Promise me one thing, though, Zed," said Phil,—"that you'll take
no more rum, if they offer it you, and that you won't stay longer
than a couple of hours or so."
"Don't think I shall play the fool twice over!" retorted Zed; "I'll
warrant it I'll come away as sober as a judge this time, and take no
more fool's tricks into my head to-day."
"'Don't say so till you're sure!'" observed Phil, in his usual sly
way; but Zed did not answer, for they were now at shore, and the
fisherman had leaped out, and was once more mooring the little
boat.
It is hardly necessary to relate that Zed found it impossible to
keep his hasty promise of a very short stay, seeing that the
"Weddingers" were "keeping it up" in true old-fashioned style, and
Phil's fiddle became, right soon, the very soul of their merriment.
Phil, however, had made his mind up, and succeeded, though with
great effort, in getting his old companion once more fairly afloat and
on the way home about an hour before sunset. Although Zed had,
indeed, the virtue to refuse the parting cup of rum, when it was
offered, yet his old noddle was far from being its own perfect
master, by reason of his frequent revisitations of the ale-pottle; and
the first mile on the water was all music of the most gleeful nature
with the old voyagers. "Indeed," as Phil himself used to say, when
talking about it, "we had each of us whetted our whistles till will-ye,
nil-ye, we must pipe, and couldn't help it!" They were trolling forth,
for the last time, their old burthen of

"Says I to myself, says I,

Though I can't laugh, I won't cry;
Let 'em kill us that dare; they're all fools that care:
We all shall live till we die!"

when the report of a gun, and the sudden flight of a drooping heron
across the Trent, arrested their music.
"By Jingo! she's a dead bird, in three minutes!" exclaimed Zed;
"mark how her right wing droops, Phil!"
"I wish I could mark it," said Phil; "but you always forget that my
poor old eyes are blanks, when you've——"
"There she goes, plop among the osiers!" cried Zed, in an
ecstasy; "pull away to the larboard, Phil. I'll have her in a twink."
"'Don't say so till you're sure!'" observed Phil, but pulled away
like a dragon in the direction recommended by his companion,
nevertheless.
Zed leaped out of the boat in a confounded hurry, when he
thought it was near enough for him to gain the shore; but he leaped
out too soon, for he fell flat on his face among the "warp," as the
mud of the Trent is called in Lincolnshire, and floundered like a flat
fish when it has been left by the water in a situation where it cannot
get away.
"Holloa! what, in the name o' bad luck, are you about?" cried
Phil, hearing poor Zed make a mighty scuffle among the mud.
Zed made no answer, but kept struggling on; for the fact was,
that he was so eager to secure the bird, that he had succeeded in
laying hold of one of its legs, and, keeping hold, prevented himself
from rising. The heron and Zed made a desperate flapping and
floundering, insomuch that Phil roared out, more than once,—
"What, in the name of heaven and earth, are you about, I say,
Zed?"
"Keep the boat in shore," cried Zed, with his mouth half filled
with mud; "I shall have her in another minute."
"'Don't say so till you're sure!'" retorted Phil again; and just then
the sportsman who had shot the heron jumped out of his boat on a
firmer part of the strand, and, running along the bank, arrived at the
spot where Zed was struggling with the bird. He struck off Zed's hold
of the fowl with a slight blow from his fowling-piece, and bore away
the bird in triumph. Zed slipped into the Trent, and went souse over
head, but rose instantly, and clambered into the boat. He vented his
disappointment and vexation against the sportsman in no very
gentle terms, while the sportsman mocked him from the bank; and,
when the captor of the heron stepped into his boat, Zed urged Phil
to pull away, that they might capsize the fellow, and give him a
ducking, as he said in his foolish haste. But Phil was always Zed's
better angel, though he was but a blind old fiddler. "No, no, Zed," he
cried, "you shall not go that way. Let us make for home, that you
may get to the fire-side. I say you shall not go—and I mean it, too."
 Nobody in the world could control Zed Marrowby but Phil Garret,
when old Zed was in his fuddled freaks; and even Phil could not
always succeed; but Zed's wet shirt helped to cool his choler in this
instance.
"To old Nick with the fellow, and his heron-sue!" cried Zed,
pulling in the same direction with Phil; "I'll e'en let him take his live
lumber: what good will it do him?"
"Just as the fox said of the grapes, when he couldn't reach 'em
—'Hang 'em! they're as sour as crabs!'" rejoined Phil; "but that was
what I said to myself, when you were struggling so hard to get the
useless fowl; and what good would it have done you, Zed?"
"Hang me, if I know, exactly!" replied Zed, looking foolish, and
wishing himself in a corner.
"You wouldn't like to eat a heron-sue, for they're as rank as
stinking fish, I've heard say," continued Phil; "and what else you
would have done with it I'm quite at a loss to guess: but never mind,
Zed, you've got a cooler, now,—and I think you won't be so hot
again for some time to come."
"Well, well, it's all in our lifetime," said Zed, resolving to be
cheerful; "only pull away, and let us get to our own fire-side, that I
may dry my old skin, there's a jolly fellow!"
"So I will, Zed," replied Phil, and doubled the force of his strokes
at the oar; "but I hope you'll promise me not to resume your gold-
digging when we land under the old castle-walls."
"I will, I will, Phil,—and so don't banter me any more; I shall be
a cooler man for some time to come, after this, depend on't,"
answered Zed, with his teeth chattering.
And Zed spoke as truly as ever a prophet spoke, and much more
truly than many; for, although he got well warmed ere he went to
bed, yet his participation of so much extra liquor at the wedding, his
foolish freak at money-digging the preceding night, and his cold bath
to conclude, operating together upon his aged frame, produced
rheumatic effects which never left him.
Zed Marrowby and Phil Garrett left their voyaging at the close of
that summer. True, they made all fit and industrious preparation for
the next spring; and Zed's heart was gleefully bent on resuming their
old cruises on their beloved Trent, and in their beloved old boat; but
Phil listened with a foreboding heart to the deep cough which shook
Zed's old body through the winter, and often interrupted his fervid
utterances of what pleasure he expected when summer should come
again. And when Zed Marrowby would exclaim, "We shall have
another merry summer's cruise yet, Phil!" Phil Garret would answer
with more solemnity, much more, than was his wont to put on,
"Don't say so till you're are sure. I think, Zed, we shall cruise no
more in this world; and I hope our next port will be in a better land."
Zed poohed and pshawed, for some time, at this "solemn way o'
talking," as he called it; but at length he began to feel that Phil was
right—he grew feebler as the spring drew nearer, and when it came,
feeling the expectation to be vain of ever stepping again into the
beloved old boat, he took Phil's advice—for he said he always
thought it worth more than the parson's—and strove to fix his mind
on reaching the happy port in the better land.
Zed Marrowby's end was calm and peaceful; and so was that of
Phil Garret, his faithful companion, who was also laid under the
green sod in old Torksey churchyard within six months after. The
memory of their names and lives is well-nigh lost in the rural locality
where they lived; but there is not a saying more common in old
Lincolnshire to this day than that quaint caution so often uttered by
the blind fiddler to his less grave comrade, "Don't say so till you are
sure!"
 MASTER ZERUBBABEL,
THE ANTIQUARY;
AND
HOW HE FOUND OUT THE "NOOSE LARNING."

Antiquaries are scarce now-a-days. Don't mistake me, reader; I

know that there is an abundance of writers on things which are
ancient—ay, and more, that certain pragmatical folk pretend now to
know more exactly how every thing went on two thousand years
ago, nay four thousand years ago, than was known a few
generations since by the first scholars in Europe. But don't say I
question the likelihood of people knowing more about the ancients
the farther time removes us from them,—because that would be
literary heresy, and would bring upon an unlucky wight the hot
persecution of the orthodox. But—I repeat it—Antiquaries are scarce
now-a-days. I mean, your real thorough-bred ones, if I may say so—
the fine old fellows who forgot their breakfasts and dinners, walked
out in their night-caps, went to bed in their inexpressibles,—in brief,
did all manner of queer absent things by reason that they were ever
present, in mind, with the long bearded Druids, or the starched
Romans, or the waggish Athenians, or the broth-supping Spartans,
or some other of the peoples who have been dead and buried
hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Talk of antiquaries!—where
are your lean, skeleton, paragons of patience now, who can dwell
seven years, with ecstasy, on the contemplation of a nail proven to
have been attached to a horse-shoe of ten centuries old,—or who
will write you, fasting, twenty folio sheets on the discovery of an urn
of Roman coins, or the opening of a British tumulus? The race is
now extinct: it has been driven out of existence by the newer and
more civilised race of the gentlemen antiquaries,—just as the
aborigines of New Holland and North America are following where
the Peruvians have already gone, into the realm of nought, before
the European grasp-alls.
One of the latest existing specimens of the genuine antiquary
was to be found in the little county town of Oakham, in little
Rutland, some seventy years bygone. Zerubbabel Dickinson was his
name, and he was proud of it;—and many an unwilling and loitering
urchin had he whipt through the nouns and verbs, and the "Propria
quæ maribus," into the "As in præsenti," in his time, for he kept the
best school in the town, during his best days;—and when his vigour
declined, and his eyes and ears grew somewhat dim, he still
continued to exert his skill and intelligence in the induction of a more
contracted number of pupils into the porches of classic learning. But
then he no longer enjoyed the high gratification of being addressed
in his full, imposing name, alike by peasant, tradesman, or
gentleman: Zerubbabel sunk to "Hubby," as the fine old pedagogue's
shoulders declined in their stately height, and his slower sense
rendered it less certain that he heard distinctly every syllable which
was uttered by his acquaintances. Yet there was no acidity of
motive, no ill-naturedness, in the use of this familiar abbreviation,
for Hubby Dickinson was as much beloved, if he were not quite so
stiffly respected, as "Master Zerubbabel" had been. And that shows,
almost beyond the necessity of telling, that the fine old antiquary
had contracted no rust of the heart among the rusty coins he had
turned over so oft and so ecstatically; but, rather, that his excellent
nature had mellowed and become more loveable with age, though it
had shrunk from its former somewhat pride-blown proportions.
Self-complacence Hubby Dickinson had felt, in his day,—and he
must have been a philosopher, indeed, could he have utterly
subdued such a feeling,—seeing that his learning was esteemed, by
gentle and simple, a thing so ponderous and vast, that every body
wondered how Master Zerubbabel's brain could hold it, or his
shoulders bear the burthen of it. Certes, there was not even a
clergyman in the neighbourhood, despite his Oxford or Cambridge
matriculation, but what resorted to the humble abode of the great
antiquarian schoolmaster for the interpretation of difficult Greek or
Hebrew texts; not an ancient will or parchment ever puzzled a
Rutland lawyer, but it was brought to Master Zerubbabel Dickinson to
decipher it; and not a ploughboy or a hedger or ditcher found a rust-
eaten coin, or an ancient key, or a mysterious-looking fragment of
pottery beneath the earth's surface, but they would forthwith
journey to the dwelling of the "high-larnt" Oakham schoolmaster to
learn the meaning, or the use, or the value of their discovery. Coins
the illustrious Zerubbabel possessed of all ages, and almost all
countries—at least, so he believed,—and keys of the most ornate
Saxon fashion; and spear-heads and arrow-heads of the most
primitive Keltic rudeness; beaking-bills of the age of Alfred, and
daggers of the reign of Canute; fragments of steel-shirts that had
been worn in the Crusades; and hilts and crosses of swords which
had done service in Cressy or Agincourt: and all these were so
learnedly arranged, that their order, itself, proclaimed the antiquary's
incomparable erudition; while the syllables he would utter in
illustration of their uses, and ages, and owners, and concomitants
innumerable, left you in a perfect whirl of wonder!
Now, of all these, the priceless contents of his precious museum,
Zerubbabel had written folio upon folio; and still continued to write
thereon, feeling that it behoved him to say all that possibly could be
said, on topics of such surpassing magnitude and importance, ere he
ventured to give his lucubrations to the world. Nevertheless, these
were minor labours, which, compared with one great and grand
undertaking that occupied nine-tenths of every leisure hour of his
more advanced life, were but as so many ant-hills to a pyramid.
Reader, hast thou ever seen the old castle of Oakham? If thou
hast not, and opportunity will serve, prythee, go thither, and feast
thy eyes with the wondrous array—not of breathing sculptures, or
matchless pictures; not of antique folios or curiously carven
cabinets; not of storied tapestries or blazing heraldries—but of
horse-shoes: ay, horse-shoes of all sorts and sizes, that adorn the
walls of that singular old Saxon hall,—supported by its "antique
pillars massy proof,"—and stretching its primitive roof overhead. A
sight it is, pregnant with abundant reflection, that curious monument
of feudalism; and many and marvellous are the stories they tell you
about its origin: but, chiefly, they report that Ferrers—the Earl now,
but simply, the ferrier, or farrier, to the victorious Norman—obtained,
with this fief, authority to demand a horse-shoe of any knight,
baron, or earl, who rode for the first time through his manor of
Oakham. And many a veritable shoe taken from the foot of the steed
of proud baron, or chivalrous knight,—his name obliterated by the
rust of ages,—you behold on those walls; but therewith now mingle
the mock-shoes of the modern great: a semblance, merely, put up at
a great price, in some instances, they say. Gigantic shapes, some of
these modern things are: such are those bearing the inscriptions "H.
R. H. the Prince Regent," and "H. R. H. the Duchess of Kent," which
latter hath a more diminutive one beside it, inscribed "the Princess
Victoria." Of the judges, who here hold the courts of assize, the
modern monuments of this curious kind are the most numerous; and
if you listen to a sly Oakhamer he will not fail to tell you how often
that model of political consistency, of generosity, liberality, integrity,
impartiality, gentleness, and all the enlightened virtues—the ever-to-
be-commemorated Abinger—was dunned for his five pounds, and
how often he contrived to slip, like an eel, through the fingers of
those whose office or privilege it is to claim the shoe or the price of
it, before he was finally caught. Yet there is the shoe of the stainless
and exalted legal functionary on the wall,—so that he was caught at
last!
Pardon, reader, this most unseemly wandering from the
illustrious subject of our present biography, the erudite Zerubbabel
Dickinson. Now it was in the contemplation of this unique monument
of baronial greatness,—it was in the collection and collocation of
manuscripts relative to the identity of the several shoes,—it was in
the array of the pedigrees of those in whose names they were put
up,—it was in brushing away the rust (not from the shoes, for the
discerning Dickinson would have adjudged him a pagan, of a verity,
and no Christian, who dared to disturb a grain of it!)—the rust of
uncertainty that hung about the names and memories of those to
whom the more ancient furniture of horses' feet belonged,—it was in
this mine profound of all that was important, and noble, and useful,
and great, and grand, about the countless catalogue of horse-shoes
that were nailed to the walls of the great hall in the castle of
Oakham, that the learned and laborious Zerubbabel dug and delved,
—it was on these themes, I say (and I scarcely know how to express
myself worthily on so magnitudinous a matter), that the
indefatigable and magnanimous schoolmaster-antiquary expended
the choicest energies of his untiring intellect.
This, courteous reader, was the prime labour—the opus majus of
Master Zerubbabel Dickinson. The work was to have been entituled
"Tallagium illustrissimum; seu Catalogus solearum ferrearum"—with
I know not how many more ums and arums, besides. Was to have
been? Yes; for let it not be supposed that so stupendous a work was
ever finished. It was the opinion of the laborious Zerubbabel himself
that it never could be finished, so transcendent was the beau-idéal
of such a work that he had conceived.
But enough of a subject which, in this degenerate age, will never
be placed at its right value. This slender fragment of a biographic
memorial was not commenced so much with the view of showing
how truly great a man was the erudite Master Zerubbabel,—since we
would despair as deeply of doing justice to so immense a subject as
Zerubbabel himself despaired of completing the leviathan folios of
the mighty "Tallagium illustrissimum:" we have a more philosophic
purpose in view—namely, the proof, by history, of the striking moral
truism, that the greatest men are very little men when you take
them out of their accustomed sphere: in other words, that the wisest
men are fools when you talk to them about things with which, in
spite of their wisdom, they are not conversant. But why prove a
truism? Ah, my friend, these same truisms, as the world calls them,
for the greater part, are just the very things that want proving——.
"Master Hubby," said a jolly fat farmer who called, with his fat
wife and her egg-basket, at the schoolmaster's door, towards five of
the clock on a market afternoon, "we've browt ye a queer, odd-
fashionedish sort on a thing, here, that we f'un i'th' home clooas
tuther day; can ye tell us what it is?" and the farmer produced an
ancient fragment of ironwork of a crooked form, but so unlike any
modern utensil of any kind, that any one but an antiquary might well
be puzzled with it. Nay, the profoundly erudite Zerubbabel himself
was nonplused for the moment! He turned it over and over, and put
on his spectacles, and then took them off again, and wiped them,
and re-adjusted them to the most perfect distance for his natural
optics—that is to say, he placed them as near to the very tip of his
nose as they would remain without falling off,—but all his delays for
consideration would not do: he was compelled to confess that he did
not know what it was!
"Why dooant ye, indeed?" cried the farmer with a stare.
"The Lord ha' marcy on us! you dooant say so, Master Hubby, do
ye?" echoed the farmer's wife, perfectly electrified with the thought
that there was any thing ancient which Hubby did not understand;
and she set down her basket of eggs, and drew out her spectacle-
case, and put on her spectacles also, to gaze at Hubby in his.
And so there stood the odd trio at the learned schoolmaster's
door: the man of ancient learning, barnacled to the nose-tip, and
holding up the curious crooked rusty piece of iron with a gaze of
indescribable eagerness; and the farmer with open mouth, and
hands buried in the profound pockets of the plush waistcoat that
enveloped the goodly rotundity of his person; and the farmer's wife,
with the basket at her feet, her arms a-kimbo, and her eyes directed
with intense earnestness through her spectacles on the movements
of the illustrious Zerubbabel's countenance.
There was a perfect silence of full three minutes, and still the
trio gazed on.
"Where found ye it?" asked Hubby, at last, not knowing what
other question to adventure.
"At Hambleton on th' hill," replied the farmer; "and what think ye
to't then now, Master Hubby?" he asked again.
 Zerubbabel shook his head, and there was again a profound and
perfect silence.
"You know, Davy," said the farmer's wife, at length, "young Bob
Rakeabout said he was somehow of a mind it was——"
"Pooh, woman!" said the impatient farmer; "where's the use and
sense of telling what such a rattle-scallion as he thinks?"
"Nay, but, Davy," reiterated the spouse, "it may be of use, for
they say he's book-larnt."
"Book-larnt! ay, mally good faith, I think as much: and noose-
larnt, too," replied the farmer; "and I wish, when his last noose is
tied, he may be allowed benefit o' clargy!" and he burst into a loud
laugh at his own wit.
"Well, howsomever," said the wife, "young Bob said he could
swear it was a spur, and nowt else."
"Calcar equitis Romani, of a verity!" exclaimed Zerubbabel, and
danced with ecstasy, till the farmer and his wife stared harder than
ever.
"Ha! ye f'un' it out?" cried the farmer's wife: "Lord! maister
Hubby, do tell us what ye think it is."
"A spur, good neighbours, a spur it is, no doubt, and hath
belonged to some valorous Roman knight many ages ago," replied
Hubby.
"Why, zowks, then, Bob was right," said the farmer; "and pray
ye, Maister Hubby, accept a dozen o' pullets' eggs with it, for it is not
worth having by itself."
Zerubbabel was of a very different opinion, but very thankfully
received the eggs, notwithstanding; and his homely visitors bade
him good afternoon.
And now did the deeply learned man retire into the very
penetralia of reflection, and meditation, and thought, and
consideration, and so forth; yet the "vasty cavern" of his mind
displayed other and more profound concernments than admiration of
the invaluable Roman spur. "Noose-larnt"—that was the singular
word which riveted his thought. "Noose-larnt!"—what could it mean?
That was the great question which the great Zerubbabel asked of
himself—for he knew no higher authority on such high matters—at
least one hundred times before he went to bed; but he slept—
answerless! Again, on the succeeding day—ay, and on the day
succeeding that day—Hubby Dickinson pondered on the same
profound problem; and, on the third night, when he had extended
his cogitations to the stroke of twelve, and his sole remaining candle
was reduced to one inch of tallow, and four of black wick, curling
through and through the struggling bit of flame, and spreading
gloom rather than light over Hubby's little studium—then it was that
Hubby Dickinson, feeling one thought go through him like a flash of
lightning, suddenly sprang up, crying out, "Eureka—eureka!" and
plucked an ancient volume from its shelf to satisfy himself of the
correctness of his thought.
The searcher for enlightenment snuffed the candle with a speed
and dexterity which few could equal,—performing the act with
Nature's snuffers, his fingers,—feeling that the vastitude and
urgency of the inquiry did not permit the delay of employing the aid
of man's mechanic invention,—and then, and then—opening the
ancient volume, and turning to the name he contemplated, and
fixing his spectacles, once again, in the most advantageous position
—the ardent and delighted antiquary read out aloud to himself the
following passage from the said ancient tome:—
"Anaxagoras, the disciple of Anaximenes, was surnamed Nous,
which signifieth intelligence, by reason of his excelling quickness of
parts, and a certain, I know not what, of instant perception or
discernment of nice difficulties in a twinkling. For whereas other wise
men went round about to survey the questions to them proponed,
on this side and that, and, after much nice calculation and naming of
postulates, drew from the balance of probabilities what they
affirmed to be a correct answer, this philosopher manifested a
strength and clearness of judgment, and swiftness of reasoning,
which might be said to partake of intuition,—a faculty which the
gods themselves only possess in its perfection: and thus it came to
pass that Anaxagoras was called, in the Hellenistic tongue, Nous, or
intelligence."
That was the passage he read; and when he had read it he
closed the heavy quarto with a noise like the report of a gun, and
again cried out that "he had found it" with all his power of lungs.
And then, feeling that he had done business enough for one night, in
having made so transcendentally-sagacious a discovery, he put out
the small remnant of candle, groped his way to his bedside, and,
while he performed the prefatory work of unclothing, thus he
soliloquised:—
"Yea, of a verity, this is the true interpretation of the mystery.
This 'Noose-larnt' young man is some great natural genius,—some
miracle of mother wit,—some second Anacharis the Scythian, who
would very likely beat all the wise men of this time, although he
never entered the pale of the schools,—nay, perhaps, hath never
passed beyond the limits of the lordship of Hambleton-on-the-hill. I
have no doubt of it; for none but such a genius could have
determined, without witchcraft, that this curiously shapen piece of
ancient armour pertained to the heel. It is strange that my friend,
the parson of Hambleton,—who must have given the young man this
expressive epithet, seeing that the rural people understand no
Greek,—it is strange that he never told me of the existence of this
youth. But I will essay to find him out, if I be spared till the morning
light! O Hubby Dickinson! though few now call you Zerubbabel, yet
you may have lived to this age for a high purpose, even to bring to
light the name and singular endowments of this 'Noose-larnt' youth!
Why, the discovery may even ennoble you beyond the composition
of the grand Tallagium!" And then Hubby fell asleep, and dreamt
delightfully; but the delight itself, of his dream awoke him, and again
he began to soliloquise amid the darkness:—
"Why, it is as clear and luminous as the sun at noon to my
mind," he said to himself: "nothing less than the possession of a
high degree of the faculty of intuition could have enabled this youth
to announce such a truth. Verily, there is no wonder the rude
peasant people entertain suspicions that he hath a familiar, or is a
wizard: and that they do entertain such ideas is evident from that
strange exclamation, or rather optation, of Gaffer Davy—he wished
when the youth's last noose was tied he might find benefit o'clergy.
There, is an allusion to the ancient privilege of escape from the
halter by a neck-verse, which I have illustrated in the Tallagium.
Doubtless, the farmers and ploughmen believe this singular youth to
be one who deals in the black art, and think his mal-practices may
bring him to the gallows. Ah, it is the way in which the lights of the
world have been treated in all ages! I will find out the abode of this
miracle of nature, that I will!" he said, and again fell asleep.
The morning broke, Hubby opened his eyes, and forthwith arose
to renew his self-congratulations. "Ah, Hubby," said he to himself,
"you will live to be called Master Zerubbabel again, by gentle and
simple; for you are destined, this day, to achieve a great work!" And
then he went over the roll of his reasonings again, and, feeling more
assured than ever of the certitude of them, he again congratulated
himself. "Ay, as old as I am, I have not lost my power of penetrating
a matter," he said; "tell me who, in the whole county of Rutland,
except myself, could have found this out from the simple premises
on which it was given me to erect my sagacious hypothesis?"
Reader,—was Hubby Dickinson a very silly old fellow to talk and
think thus? Ah, how many of your great philosophers have reared
their world-admired hypotheses from premises as slight; and yet
how long it was before the folly of many of them was found out!
Well, there was now but one step to be taken as a preliminary to
the commencement of Hubby's journey to Hambleton, which, he was
sure, would be memorable while the world lasted: it was—to give his
scholars a holiday.
Reader,—talk of potentates by whatever name you will; but your
schoolmaster is your only emperor! Can he not make laws—break
laws—bind his subjects—set them free—and, in one word, do what
he listeth? I tell thee, reader, that his is the true imperium in
imperio: his will is law, and who can gainsay it? Thou knowest of no
potentate so truly imperial as the village schoolmaster.
And Hubby Dickinson—had he not power in himself, and of
himself—to give his boys a holiday? That he had; and when the
word was given, ye powers! what a rush was there over benches,
and what a scampering for hats; and then the huzza! when the
threshold was passed and the plans for fun throughout the livelong
day that were formed! Woe worth the world! one owes it a grudge,
one is tempted to think, since it hath taken away from our lips the
nectared chalice of childhood, and giveth us now, from day to day,
no other draught but this unsavoury minglement, wherein one
scarcely knows whether the bitterness or the insipidity most prevails!
It was but three short miles from Oakham to Hambleton; and
Hubby Dickinson's eagerness of desire gave such strength and speed
to his limbs that he soon reached the village.
"Pray, my good friend," said he to a farmer on horseback, as he
entered the place, "can you say where I shall find the singularly
endowed youth who is familiarly called Bob Rakeabout, the Noose-
larnt?"
Poor Hubby! how he stared, and how loftily indignant he felt,
when the farmer returned him a broad horse-laugh for an answer,
and, setting spurs to his horse, rode away! He was not to be driven
from his purpose, however, and put the same question to a
pedestrian, next. The man, who was a ditcher with a shovel on his
shoulder, touched, or rather nipped, his hat skirts, and asked what
the gentleman said; and when he clearly understood that Bob
Rakeabout was wanted, his reply was, that he knew not where he
would be found, unless at the alehouse. Hubby thanked his
informant, but was sure within himself that there was some mistake
arising from the man's dulness, for it could not be that a genius of
so magnificent a grade as the human being he was seeking could be
found loitering in a vulgar alehouse. So on Hubby strode, looking at
the ground, and thinking, and thinking,—till, at last, he was accosted
by a very dark-visaged and singularly dressed man, who stood by a
tent in a lane, on the other side of the village—for the thinker had
passed quite through it, unconsciously.
"Fine weather, sir," said the man; "you seem to be in a brown
study."
"Pray, my friend," said Hubby, instantly, "know you one Bob
Rakeabout, a singularly gifted youth who, I am informed, hath
obtained the significant epithet of the 'Noose-larnt?'"
The man took his short black pipe from his mouth, and stared
agape for a few seconds, and then said, with a smothered laugh,—
"Oh, Bob! Ay, I know him well: he's famous for noose-larning!"
Hubby Dickinson's heart leaped within him, and he bounded
from the side of the road into the centre of the lane, and, grasping
the man's hand, conjured him to lead him to the youth's presence.
By this time, three or four more dark faces had gathered at the
entrance of the tent.
"Come in a bit," said the man to whom the antiquary had
addressed himself. And, winking at his companions, the gipsy led
Hubby into the tent.
Hubby was placed upon a sack that covered a clump of wood,
and was invited to partake some bread and cheese,—while a boy ran
into the village to fetch Bob Rakeabout. Having, in his eagerness,
utterly forgot his breakfast at home, Hubby felt nothing loth when he
saw the food, and accordingly accepted a "good farrantly piece," as
the gipsies called it. A humming horn of ale followed, and then
another, and another. Indeed, the contents of the huge black
earthen bottle were passed about rather freely. Endless questions
followed, and strange answers were given; and sometimes the
gipsies stared, and at others they smiled, and often they were in
danger of laughing outright.
At length the boy returned, and, behold! immediately afterwards
Bob Rakeabout, the "Noose-larnt" himself, entered the tent! Hubby
rose to receive him, bareheaded; but, he knew not how it was, it
was somewhat difficult for him to stand, and so he sat down again.
As for the great natural phenomenon himself, he stretched his
brawny hand to each of the gipsies, and they shook it with
remarkable good-humour. Then, seizing the black earthen bottle, he
applied it to his mouth, without either using the horn or waiting for
invitation to drink.
Hubby's thinkings were becoming somewhat confused; but he
turned, inwardly, to the fact that Diogenes threw away his dish when
he saw the boy drink out of his hand. "Of a verity, the youth is one
of Nature's own miracles!" said he to himself.
Forthwith, Bob Rakeabout rakishly laughed as he took out a
large pouch, composed of mole-skins, and filled with tobacco. He
laid it open on the floor of the tent, filled his own short pipe from it,
and the gipsies immediately followed his example. Hubby, as yet,
had scarcely spoken to Bob; but when the whole company began to
smoke, and the antiquary was again pressed to drink, for more than
one reason he quietly remarked that he much wished to converse
with this youth alone.
"Oh, ay," replied the gipsy, whom Hubby had seen first, "Bob will
have no objection to that:—you can show this gentleman some
noose-larning, can't you, Bob?"
The gipsies tittered,—but Bob understood the question,—for
much had been said by himself and the gipsies in the peculiar slang
of their tribe, which Hubby had not comprehended.
"Take another horn, sir," said Bob; "and give us another ten
minutes to smoke our pipes out, and I'll show ye some noose-
larning, in a twink."
Hubby's head swum partly with pleasure, but much more with
the strong ale, to which he was unused; but he drank off the other
horn, in eager expectation of such a mental feast to follow it as he
had never yet tasted.
 "Come along wi' me, sir!" cried Bob, springing up, suddenly, at
the end of less than ten minutes; "come along wi' me, and I'll show
ye some noose-larning!"
"Are ye really off, Bob?" asked the gipsies, all together.
"Ay, ay," he answered, "kick up a roaster, and set on iron-jack
against I come back."
Hubby thought this strange talk; but he had not time to think
much about it, for Bob seized him by the hand, and away they
scampered together over two or three fields, and then entered a
wood. And here Bob took from his pocket certain strange engines of
wood and wire, and, showing Hubby the noose attached to each,
planted them severally in little openings of bush or brake, while
Hubby stared like one that was thunder-struck, for Bob only uttered
one word—"Noose-larning!" and then, seizing Hubby by the arm,
hurried him on again. At length, in the thickest part of the wood,
Bob began to take up engines instead of putting them down—but,
lo! there were dead hares attached to them.
And now poor Hubby Dickinson saw of what kind of mettle the
"miracle of mother-wit" was made, and, taking to his heels, he ran
from the poacher with as much haste as if a legion of fiends were
behind him. Did the poacher follow? Not he, indeed. He only burst
into hysterics of laughter, and then went on with his business.
And whither fled the antiquary? Indeed, he knew not; but,
having emerged from the wood, he ran as long as the fumes of the
strong malt-liquor in his brains permitted him to retain possession of
the power of his feet; and, when they failed him, he fell souse into a
ditch, which happened merely to contain mud instead of water, and
remained there, insensible and asleep for the greater part of the
time, till late in the afternoon.
As luck would have it, the parson of Hambleton, who was an old
antiquarian crony of Hubby's, took his afternoon walk in that
direction, and, to his perfect amazement, found his erudite friend in
the ditch.
 "Noose-larning!" roared out Hubby, and shook and shuddered,
when the parson had poked him with his walking-stick until he
waked him:—"Noose-larning!" he still uttered, beholding the poacher
in the wood, in his bewildered condition. With much ado, Hubby was
at length fully brought to the remembrance of what he was about,
and being by that time perfectly sober,—but dreadfully cramped,—he
clambered out of the ditch; and though sorely ashamed of his
bedaubed condition, and much more of his doating folly, he
accompanied his friend to the parsonage-house at Hambleton, and,
after much entreaty, with all the simplicity of his soul, recounted all
he could remember of the whole adventure, commencing with Gaffer
Davy's visit and the present of the Roman spur.
Oft was the hearty laugh of the plain Oakhamers raised at
Hubby Dickinson's expense, during the remainder of his life; but the
fine old fellow's adventure never lessened their esteem for him. He
was never permitted to want, even when age had stiffened his limbs
and almost totally closed his eyes and ears. Town and country were
alike proud of the learning that he had possessed; and the villages,
especially, believed that his like would never be seen in Rutland
again, even to the day of judgment.
In the lapse of a few months, Hubby got over the shame and
soreness of mind created by his adventure so entirely, as to be able
to relish a joke about it; and, when his lamp of life was quivering
and ready to sink, nothing would so soon cause it to blaze up with a
healthy and cheerful light as a joke about the "noose-larning"—
unless it were a grave and respectful mention of the "Tallagium
illustrissimum." But the lamp of that life went out at last, though its
exit from mortality was peaceful and gentle as the sinking to sleep of
a babe; and never yet has "the like" been seen in little Rutland, for
wondrous learning, of Master Zerubbabel Dickinson.
 THE BEGGARED GENTLEMAN,
AND
HIS CROOKED STICK.

There is not a sight in the world more distressful to the bosom

that retains any measure in it of "the milk of human kindness" than
that of an abject, poverty-stricken fellow-creature, who once rolled
in wealth and plenty. Even the born beggar, who has lived a beggar
all his life, feels an involuntary compassion for such a man. And, if
his fall be attributable to no avaricious spirit of speculation, or proud
and sensual excess—but is the effect of Fortune's untoward frown,
or the result of what the selfish world calls an imprudent practice of
relieving the distressed, the "beggared gentleman" is surely a
legitimate object of universal commiseration.
"Poor Mr. Clifford!" the most ragged and hungry inhabitant of
Kirton-in-Lindsey would exclaim, "how much he is to be pitied!—I
never thought to see him come to this!" And when the subject of
this general pity happened to let fall his curious crooked stick
through infirmity of age, there was not a poor man or woman in the
little town but would hasten to restore it to him who seemed to
regard it as the most prizeable possession he had left in the world. It
was moving to see the instant act of ceremonious courtesy to which
the recipient of this simple heart-kindness would resort. He would
raise his hat, and smile with the same polite expression of
thankfulness as in his best days. No one who saw him could forget
that he had been a gentleman. And yet the home of his old age was
one of squalid misery!
Hugh Clifford's father was a descendant, by a younger branch, of
a noble family, and had gained a considerable fortune as a merchant
in the port of Hull. He died in the beginning of the reign of George
the Third, and left his accumulated wealth to his only son, who was
then at college. Hugh hastened home, on the sudden death of his
father, and, by the advice of a few friends, resolved to carry on his
father's mercantile concern. Twelve months, however, served to
disgust him with business. His wealth, instead of augmenting, began
rapidly to decrease under the peculations of clerks and managers, to
whom the business was necessarily entrusted, and he took the
resolution, ere it was too late, of retiring, after he had disposed of
his "concern," to a pretty little estate which had fallen to him, by his
mother's right, at the pleasant little rural town of Kirton-in-Lindsey,
that like "a city set on a hill" delights the eye of the traveller for
miles before he reaches it.
For many years, Hugh Clifford's house was a general refuge for
the distressed. None ever knocked at his gate, and told a tale of
want, but they found instant relief. Hugh Clifford's heart was
expansive as Nature herself. He felt that all men were his brethren,
and that, if he merely tendered them lip-kindness when they were in
sorrow, it was but mockery. He pondered over the precepts and
history of the Great Exemplar, until, nature and reason combining to
stimulate him, his whole life became an effort to banish the misery
of human-kind. And yet the sphere in which he acted was
comparatively narrow; for his natural intelligence was not of that
high order which marks out for itself extended fields of enterprize in
philanthropy. Hugh Clifford could not be termed a planet, like
Howard, that visited widely distant climes in its great dispensing
orbit of goodness; but he was most veritably a star of benevolence,
that cheered with a pure and genial light all within its neighbourhood
who partook of woe and wretchedness.
Living, by his charity, in the very core of poor men's hearts, and
respected for his true politeness and urbanity by his wealthier
neighbours, Hugh Clifford, while he rendered others happy, was
believed to be himself a very happy man. Nevertheless, for twenty
years after he had passed the prime of age, discomfort and distress
were gradually stealing upon him; and these, too, from a source
which was almost entirely unsuspected by the majority of his
neighbours. True, it was sometimes remarked that fox-eyed lawyer
Merrick was often, very often, at Clifford cottage,—and this was
considered to be anomalous, since Hugh Clifford's acquaintances had
been uniformly chosen for some quality which distinguished them in
the little town and its neighbourhood, as benefactors rather than
oppressors of the poor: albeit lawyer Merrick was notoriously of the
latter description of character. A few shrewd, hard-bargaining
farmers also made a notch in their memories, now and then, that
lawyer Merrick's purchases of odd bits of land were becoming
frequent now he seemed to be so very oft a visitor at good Mr.
Clifford's.
Notwithstanding these slight precurses of suspicion, it came, at
length, upon the ears of the Kirton people, poor and rich together,
like the shock of an earthquake, that "poor good old Mr. Clifford was
turned bodily out of doors, with nothing but the clothes on his back
and his favourite crooked stick in his hand, a complete pauper, for
that he had been getting into lawyer Merrick's debt for years and
years, by borrowing small sums upon his estate, whereby all he was
worth was mortgaged to the lawyer, who had now suddenly
foreclosed, and pounced upon house and land, pushing good old Mr.
Clifford away, by the shoulders!"
"Poor Mr. Clifford!" was echoed by every body;—but who helped
"poor Mr. Clifford?"
There lay the hardest fact in the good man's history. The little
tradesmen who had shared his daily orders for the relief of the
miserable had none of them more than five pounds in their books
against him; but each of them made out a bill of thrice the amount
of their debt, and so figured in the world's compassion as great
losers by the "beggared gentleman," instead of ingrates, when they
shut their doors against him. The farmers shook their heads, and
buttoned up their fobs, saying, "It was no wonder that all was over
with Mr. Clifford: he ought to have remembered that, 'Charity begins
at home.'" The parish parson, who was the prime whip of the
neighbourhood, and spent more days of the year with 'Squire
Harrison's hounds than he spent in his pulpit and study, thrice told,
only struck his top-boots violently with his whip, and said, "God bless
me! I always thought the poor fellow was cracked in his upper story!
Why, he must have meant to end his days in an alms-house, or he
would not have undertaken to keep all the poor in my parish and the
surrounding parishes to boot!" and, springing into the stirrups, was
out of sight in a minute.
And into an alms-house poor Hugh Clifford went, but not until he
had wandered through the little town three or four times, leaning
upon his curious crooked stick, and looking as if unconscious of the
crowd of tearful poor men and women that followed him. At first,
the parish overseers waited, in the expectation that, as a matter of
course, either the parson or some of the "better sort of people"
would invite the "beggared gentleman" into their houses; but when
it was seen that no such invitation was given, while, all the time, the
poor fallen man was wandering in the street with derangement
manifest in his looks, the puzzled overseers laid their heads together,
and agreed that one of the alms-houses should be apportioned for
Mr. Clifford's home, and that an old deaf female pauper should be
put under the same roof to wait upon him.
For many days the poor victim to his own goodness was silent
and helpless, and, by order of the parish surgeon, was disturbed, on
the rugged bed where he lay, no oftener than was necessary to
arouse him in order that he might be fed; for his mental powers
seemed to have undergone so complete a paralysis as to render him
insensible to the calls of nature. After the lapse of some weeks,
during the latter half of which he seemed to be absorbed in abstract
devotion, poor Hugh Clifford's mind rallied. And now the meekness
with which he bore his adversity was equally remarkable with the
perfectness of that pity he had evermore displayed for the wretched
during the term of his prosperity. He accepted the smallest act of
kindness with gratitude; and the poor deaf old female pauper never
knew what it was to hear him utter a word of complaint.
 The remnant of his life may be summed up in a few lines. All
who had the means of ameliorating his lot neglected him; and all
who wished for the means, and had hearts to have used them in his
relief, lacked them. He lived years in his beggared condition, and
died calmly and quietly, complaining of nothing in the world, nor of
the world itself, and leaving but one request,—that his curious
crooked stick might be placed by his right side, in his coffin, and
buried with him!
The deaf old female pauper who had waited on him did not fail
to communicate this strange request to the parish overseers when
they came to look at Hugh Clifford's corpse, prior to giving orders for
his burial. It may be guessed that the singular request gave rise to
much wonder and some enquiry. But the old female could only
answer that the good gentleman would often place his odd-looking
walking-stick in the corner, and sit on his bedside looking very
intently upon it; and that often he would turn the other side of it to
the wall, and then sit and look at it again; and several times she had
seen him take a little note-book from his coat pocket, at the breast,
and write in it, looking, ever and anon, at the curious crooked stick.
The latter part of the old female's communication of course
occasioned a search. The pocket-book was found, and in it a paper
covered with a close manuscript of a most curious character, but one
that served to display the anatomy of poor Hugh Clifford's heart
under his misfortunes more fully than it could have been laid open
and read in either death-bed confession, or funeral sermon. It ran as
follows:—

"A Soliloquy on my only faithful and never-failing friend,—my

beloved and valued crooked stick.

"Ay, there thou art,—my own crooked stick!—My heart cleaves to

thee, in thy crookedness; and I love thus to look upon thee, more
and more, daily, as thou leanest by the wall in that corner,—
remembering that thou and I were not always tenants of an alms-
house.
"I love to look upon thee, with a melancholy yet pleasurable
love, beholding that thou preservest thy crooked identity,—yea,
remainest as crooked as ever thou wert! I know not whether aught
within me, or, indeed, any thing but thyself without me, be still the
same as on that beautiful summer eve when, more than fifty years
ago, I cut thee from the venerable crab-tree whereon thou didst
grow, and we formed our inseparable friendship.
"The wise men of this age would tell me that not a particle of
the body I had then, at nineteen, is to be found in this old body of
threescore and ten,—but that blood, bone, brains, and all its other
youthful components, are changed. I know not, my dear crooked
crab-stick, how truly they may speak; but this I know,—that I then
was proud of a perfect and spotless array of teeth, while, now, my
old gums are tenantless; that then my eyes were sharp and strong,
while now I see, with the utmost difficulty, objects removed half a
yard from my nose; that then my ears were instruments of use, and
porches for receiving the brain's most precious visitants, the sounds
of music,—while, now, they only serve to plague me when I see
people's lips moving, and think, like other old fools, that folks are
always talking about me; and, that I used to have 'a handsome head
of hair,' as my barber always called it, on quarter-day, when he
expected his salary,—while, now, I behold a perpetual winter above
my brow, and on my brow itself!
"But, ah! my faithful friend, why should I lament the changes
which have come upon me? Fate, or Fortune, or whatever power I
might fancifully charge with my evil day, cannot avenge herself of
me so bitterly as she might,—if I had teeth to be set on edge with
inferior food,—eyes to be offended with the rude shapes of this
straw mattrass and rush-bottomed chair,—ears to be tormented with
the jangling of earthen porringers, as the poor deaf old woman
knocks them against each other,—and hair which I could not dress
for lack of a mirror!