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Python Tools for Scientists 1st Edition Lee Vaughan
Digital Instant Download
Author(s): Lee Vaughan
ISBN(s): 9781718502666, 1718502664
Edition: 1st
File Details: PDF, 14.85 MB
Year: 2023
Language: english
PYTHON TOOLS FOR SCIENTISTS
PYTHON TOOLS
FOR SCIENTISTS
An Introduction to Using
Anaconda, JupyterLab, and
Py t h o n’s S c i e n t i f i c L i b r a r i e s

b y L e e Va u g h a n

San Francisco
PYTHON TOOLS FOR SCIENTISTS. Copyright © 2023 by Lee Vaughan.

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electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval
system, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher.

First printing
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®
® Published by No Starch Press , Inc.
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 This book is dedicated to the worldwide army of
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grateful for your hard work and the immeasurable
good it produces.
About the Author
Lee Vaughan is a programmer, educator, and author of Impractical Python
Projects (No Starch Press, 2019) and Real-World Python (No Starch Press, 2021).
As an executive-level scientist at ExxonMobil, he constructed and reviewed
computer models, developed and tested software, and trained geoscientists
and engineers. His books are dedicated to helping self-learners develop and
hone their Python skills and have fun doing it!

About the Technical Reviewer

John Mayhew is a geoscientist with an extensive background in math-
ematics, data analysis, and scientific computing. He is a co-founder of the
nonprofit organization Land of Jershon and currently serves on its board
of directors and as the CEO. He has also established a charitable giving
consultantship, East Gate Advocates, designed to connect donors with non-
profit projects.
 BRIEF CONTENTS

Acknowledgments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxi

Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxiii

PART I: SETTING UP YOUR SCIENTIFIC CODING ENVIRONMENT . . . . . . . . 1

Chapter 1: Installing and Launching Anaconda . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7

Chapter 2: Keeping Organized with Conda Environments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21

Chapter 3: Simple Scripting in the Jupyter Qt Console . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49

Chapter 4: Serious Scripting with Spyder . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61

Chapter 5: Jupyter Notebook: An Interactive Journal for Computational Research . . . . . . . . . 93

Chapter 6: JupyterLab: Your Center for Science . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139

PART II: A PYTHON PRIMER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173

Chapter 7: Integers, Floats, and Strings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175

Chapter 8: Variables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201

Chapter 9: The Container Data Types . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 219

Chapter 10: Flow Control . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 257

Chapter 11: Functions and Modules . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283

Chapter 12: Files and Folders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 315

Chapter 13: Object-Oriented programming . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 347

Chapter 14: Documenting Your Work . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 377

PART III: THE ANACONDA ECOSYSTEM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 397
Chapter 15: The Scientific Libraries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 399

Chapter 16: The InfoVis, SciVis, and Dashboarding Libraries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 419

Chapter 17: The GeoVis Libraries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 457

PART IV: THE ESSENTIAL LIBRARIES . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 489

Chapter 18: NumPy: Numerical Python . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 491

Chapter 19: Demystifying Matplotlib . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 537

Chapter 20: pandas, seaborn, and scikit-learn . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 583

Chapter 21: Managing Dates and Times with Python and pandas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 625

Appendix: Answers to the “Test Your Knowledge” Challenges . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 665

Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 685

viii Brief Contents

 CO N T E N T S I N D E TA I L

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS XXI

INTRODUCTION XXIII
Why Python? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxv
Navigating This Book . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxvii
Part I: Setting Up Your Scientific Coding Environment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxviii
Part II: A Python Primer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxix
Part III: The Anaconda Ecosystem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxx
Part IV: The Essential Libraries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxx
Appendix . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxxi
Updates and Errata . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxxi
Leaving Reviews . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xxxi

PART I: SETTING UP YOUR SCIENTIFIC CODING

ENVIRONMENT 1
1
INSTALLING AND LAUNCHING ANACONDA 7
About Anaconda . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
Installing Anaconda on Windows . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9
Installing Anaconda on macOS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
Installing Anaconda on Linux . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12
Getting to Know Anaconda Navigator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
Launching Navigator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
The Home Tab . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
The Environments Tab . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
The Learning Tab . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
The Community Tab . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
File Menu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18
Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19

2
KEEPING ORGANIZED WITH CONDA ENVIRONMENTS 21
Understanding Conda Environments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22
Working with Conda Environments Using Navigator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24
Launching Navigator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
Creating a New Environment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
Managing Packages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
Duplicating Environments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
Backing Up Environments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
Removing Environments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
Working with Conda Environments Using the Command Line Interface . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
Launching the Command Line Interface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
Creating a New Environment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36
Specifying an Environment’s Location . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37
Managing Packages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39
Duplicating and Sharing Environments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44
Restoring Environments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46
Removing Environments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47
Cleaning the Package Cache . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48

3
SIMPLE SCRIPTING IN THE JUPYTER QT CONSOLE 49
Installing seaborn . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50
Installing and Launching the Jupyter Qt Console Using Navigator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51
Installing and Launching the Jupyter Qt Console Using the CLI . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52
The Qt Console Controls . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
Choosing a Syntax Style . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 53
Using Keyboard Shortcuts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 54
Using Tabs and Kernels . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55
Printing and Saving . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56
Multiline Editing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58
Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59

4
SERIOUS SCRIPTING WITH SPYDER 61
Installing and Launching Spyder with Anaconda Navigator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62
Installing and Launching Spyder Using the CLI . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63
Launching Spyder from the Start Menu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64
Configuring the Spyder Interface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64
Using Spyder with Environments and Packages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66
The Naive Approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66
The Modular Approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 66
Using Project Files and Folders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 68
Creating a Project in a New Directory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69
Creating a Project in an Existing Directory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70
Using the Project Pane . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72
The Help Pane . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72
The IPython Console . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74
Using the Console for Output and Plotting . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75
Using Kernels with the Console . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76
Clearing the Namespace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76
The History Pane . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
Special Consoles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77
The Editor Pane . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
Writing a Program Using the Editor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
Defining Code Cells . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81
Setting the Run Configuration . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83
Autocompleting Text . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84
The Code Analysis Pane . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85

x Contents in Detail
The Variable Explorer Pane . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86
The Profiler Pane . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89
The Debugger Pane . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 91

5
JUPYTER NOTEBOOK: AN INTERACTIVE JOURNAL FOR
COMPUTATIONAL RESEARCH 93
Installing Jupyter Notebook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94
The Naive Approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 94
The Modular Approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96
Your First Jupyter Notebook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97
Creating Dedicated Project Folders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 98
Navigating the Notebook Dashboard and User Interface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100
Naming a Notebook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101
Adding Text with a Markdown Cell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102
Adding Code and Making Plots with a Code Cell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104
Working with Output Cells . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106
Adding an Image with a Markdown Cell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107
Saving the Notebook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109
Closing the Notebook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109
Getting Help . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109
Keyboard Shortcuts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110
The Command Palette . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112
Using Notebook Extensions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
Installing Extensions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
Enabling Extensions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 113
Working with Widgets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115
Installing ipywidgets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115
Creating Widgets with Interact . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 116
Creating Widgets with Interactive . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118
Manually Creating Widgets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119
Handling Events . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120
Customizing Widgets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121
Embedding Widgets in Other Formats . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122
Sharing Notebooks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 122
Checking and Running Notebooks with the Kernel Menu . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123
Downloading Notebooks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 123
Sharing Notebooks via GitHub and Gist . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125
Sharing Notebooks via Jupyter Notebook Viewer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128
Sharing Notebooks via Binder . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 129
Other Sharing Options . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
Trusting Notebooks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131
Turning Notebooks into Slideshows . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132
Installing the RISE Extension . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132
Creating a Slideshow . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 133
Using Speaker Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136

Contents in Detail xi
6
JUPYTERLAB: YOUR CENTER FOR SCIENCE 139
When to Use JupyterLab Instead of Notebook? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140
Installing JupyterLab . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140
The Naive Approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 140
The Modular Approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142
Building a 3D Astronomical Simulation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 144
Using Dedicated Project Folders . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 144
The JupyterLab Interface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145
The Menu Bar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 146
The Left Sidebar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 147
Creating a New Notebook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 148
Naming the Notebook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149
Using Markdown Cells . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149
Adding Code and Making Plots . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150
Adding a Console . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152
Displaying an Image File . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153
Exploring the Simulation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 154
Opening Multiple Notebooks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156
Saving the Workspace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156
Clearing the Workspace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157
Closing the Workspace . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157
Taking Advantage of the JupyterLab Interface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 157
Creating Synchronized Views . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158
Copying Cells Between Notebooks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158
Staying Focused by Using Single Document Mode . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 160
Using the Text Editor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 161
Running a Script in a Terminal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 162
Running a Script in a Notebook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163
Simultaneously Writing and Documenting Code . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164
Using JupyterLab Extensions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 165
Installing and Managing Extensions with the Extension Manager . . . . . . . . . . 166
Installing and Managing Extensions Using the CLI . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169
Installing ipywidgets for JupyterLab . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170
Creating Custom Extensions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171
Sharing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171
Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171

PART II: A
 PYTHON PRIMER 173
7
INTEGERS, FLOATS, AND STRINGS 175
Mathematical Expressions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176
Mathematical Operators . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176
The Assignment Operator . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 177
Augmented Assignment Operators . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178
Precedence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178
The math Module . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179

xii Contents in Detail

Error Messages . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 182
Data Types . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 184
Accessing the Data Type . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185
Integers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 185
Floats . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186
Strings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189
Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200

8
VARIABLES 201
Variables Have Identities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202
Assigning Variables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203
Using Expressions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204
Operator Overloading . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204
Using Functions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204
Chained Assignment and Internment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 205
Using f-Strings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206
Naming Variables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206
Reserved Keywords . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 207
Variables Are Case Sensitive . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209
Best Practices for Naming Variables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209
Managing Dynamic Typing Issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 211
Handling Insignificant Variables . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 212
Getting User Input . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 213
Using Comparison Operators . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 214
Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217

9
THE CONTAINER DATA TYPES 219
Tuples . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220
Creating Tuples . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221
Converting Other Types to Tuples . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 221
Working with Tuples . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 222
Lists . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229
Creating Lists . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 230
Working with Lists . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 230
Sets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239
Creating Sets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 239
Working with Sets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 241
Creating Frozensets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 245
Dictionaries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 246
Creating Dictionaries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247
Combining Two Sequences into a Dictionary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 248
Creating Empty Dictionaries and Values . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249
Working with Dictionaries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 249
Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 256

Contents in Detail xiii

Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
vassal and set his life in jeopardy. Had you sent a messenger in
peace, Edith Holgrave would have obeyed the mandate. There was
little need of all this tumult to take an aged woman, whom He
knoweth is innocent, and whom you, Lord of Sudley, in your own
breast——"
"Foul mouthed witch!" interrupted De Boteler, "keep thy tongue
silent—no more—lest I anticipate justice by hanging you at your own
threshold!"
"That you dare not do!" said Edith, calmly.
"Bear her away, Calverley—bear her away, or I cannot answer for
the result. Place her in the dungeon at the top of the tower, and let
no one see her till to-morrow, when she shall be conveyed to
Gloucester Castle."
That same day, Calverley summoned, or rather packed, a jury at
which he himself presided; and a verdict of wilful murder was
returned against Edith. Apprehensive, however, that the charge of
poisoning might not be sustained upon the unsupported testimony
of Mary Byles, he easily influenced the credulous jurors to believe
that witchcraft had as much to do with the child's death as poison.
His usual tact, however, had forsaken him on this occasion, and it
was not until the verdict was announced and recorded, that the
unwelcome conviction flashed across his mind, that the temporal
courts could exercise no jurisdiction over the crime of witchcraft. It
was now too late to alter the language of the inquisition. It had gone
forth to hundreds who awaited its promulgation with intense
anxiety; and the language of the verdict that "Edith Holgrave
delivered to Mary Byles, a certain charmed or poisonous drug, for
the purpose of destroying Roland De Boteler, and which said drug
was administered to, and caused the death of, the said Roland,"
was, in a few hours, familiar to the whole town and neighbourhood.
Calverley was too well aware of the jealous vigilance the church
exercised in cases appertaining to its jurisdiction, not to feel
apprehensive that its influence might be exerted to defeat the
operation of the temporal court; for, although the ecclesiastical
courts could not award the last penalty to persons convicted of
witchcraft or heresy, yet they were as tenacious of their exclusive
right to investigate such cases, as if they possessed the power to
punish. When a person accused of those crimes was adjudged to
die, a writ was issued from the court of King's Bench called a writ de
heretico comburendo, by virtue of which the victim was handed over
to the temporal authority, and underwent the punishment awarded.
But it was seldom, at this period, that the obstinacy of a delinquent
brought about such a consummation, for a confession of the crime
(if the first) only subjected him to ecclesiastical penance or censure.
It was not till the reign of James the First that we find any legislative
enactment against witchcraft. The well known passage in Exodus
which conveys the divine command to the great lawgiver, "Thou
shalt not suffer a witch to live," was the supposed authority from
which the church derived its jurisdiction; and though the priests of
the old law were armed with, and probably exercised, the ordinance
in its fullest meaning, yet the disciples of a purer and milder doctrine
delegated that authority to a power more suited to carry its decrees
into effect.
The news of these transactions had no sooner reached the ears of
father John, than he hastened to the abbot of Winchcombe, for the
purpose of beseeching him to demand the prisoner in the name of
the church.
Simon Sudbury, the mitred abbot, was a man of a fair and florid
complexion, with large, expressive eyes, that even at the age of fifty
were of a deep and clear blue. He was tall, and just sufficiently
corpulent to give an air of dignity to his figure; but even had his
person been insignificant, there sat on his brow, and glanced in his
eye, that pride and conscious superiority which, even from an equal,
would have extorted respect.
The monk made a lowly obeisance as he approached the abbot, and
when desired to make known his business, he detailed in a brief but
perspicuous manner the charge against Edith. The superior listened
with calm attention; but it was evident that the Baron de Boteler
was not one with whom he would feel disposed to interfere.
"My son," said he, when father John had ceased, "it seems an
oppressive case according to your statement; but you are well aware
how much our holy church has been shorn of her power, and how
eager the monarch, and nobles, and even the people, are to abridge
our privileges." The abbot paused, and again resumed: "I fear, my
son, our remonstrance would be disregarded by this young lord, and
only cause a further indignity to be cast on our holy church."
"My lord," answered the monk, "I would not urge you; but I so well
know the woman's piety and innocence, that it would be to
participate in the guilt of her accusers not to implore your lordship's
interposition." The abbot took up a pen that lay before him, and was
about to write; but he laid it down again, saying—
"Would it not be better to await her trial, and should she be found
guilty, petition the king for a pardon?"
"My lord, she may not survive the imprisonment."
"Well, my son, her earthly troubles would then cease without our
interference—the innocent are better away from this sinful world,
where oppression rules with a strong hand."
"True," answered the monk, with increased tenacity; "but will the
Lord of life hold us guiltless, if we heed not the cry of the innocent?"
The abbot looked frowningly on father John, as he again took up the
pen. "My son, you are not serving the church by such pertinacity.
This application will only expose one of its dignitaries to humiliation;
however, I shall write to the Baron, since you desire it, and demand
that the accused be transferred to the tribunal over which we
preside."
The abbot waved his hand impatiently, and the monk withdrew.
The hall of Sudley had been hastily hung with black cloth, and the
walls of the adjoining apartment exhibited a similar covering; and
here, surrounded by a number of lighted tapers, lay the corpse of
the little Roland. At the foot of the bier knelt a monk in silent prayer,
and at the side sat the Lady Isabella, absorbed in a grief which none
but a mother can feel, and regardless of her husband's intreaties to
withdraw.
"Oh, no, not yet," she said, "I cannot yet leave my babe. It was but
yesterday my heart bounded at the thought of caressing my lovely
boy; and to-day—but this witch—this murderess!" she continued,
turning round, and elevating her voice; "what of her? Does she
confess her guilt?"
"No," replied Boteler; "and she persists that the potion, if rightly
administered, would rather have benefited than harmed our Roland."
"Heed her not—she is as artful as vile—they are an evil brood
altogether. Know you, De Boteler," she added quickly, "whether the
young woman participated in the deed of darkness?"
"Nothing has appeared against her," replied the baron.
At this instant an attendant entered, and delivered a letter to her
lord, from the abbot of Winchcombe, adding that two messengers
were waiting in the hall.
The baron untied the silken cord that confined the parchment, and
having hastily perused it, handed it to the Lady Isabella.
"De Boteler," said the lady, rising from her seat when her eyes had
run over the writing, "this woman shall not escape justice. Go, my
lord—remember your murdered child, and compromise not with
those who would screen the guilty from punishment."
De Boteler moved from the illuminated bier, and entered the hall
with a haughty step; and as his eye fell on Father John, the frown on
his brow increased. He did not, however, appear to heed him, but,
turning to the abbot's messenger, said,
"Monk!—I have read my lord abbot's letter, and it would seem that
he ought to have known better than interfere in such a matter. My
child has been poisoned—the evidence is clear and convincing—why,
therefore, does he make such a demand?"
"My lord baron," replied the messenger, "the verdict states that a
charmed potion had been administered to the young lord. This
accusation precedes the charge of poisoning: therefore, the spiritual
court must first decide on the fact of witchcraft, before the temporal
tribunal can take cognizance of the other offence."
"And does your abbot think, when the hope of my house has
perished, whether by false incantations or deadly poison, that——
Depart, monk!" continued he, in a choked voice, "and tell your abbot
that this woman's guilt or innocence shall be tried by the laws of the
realm."
"Then, my lord, you will not comply with the mandate of my
superior?"
"Mandate!" repeated the enraged baron—"ha! ha! Mandate,
forsooth! From whom—from an impotent priest of a waning church—
and which church, with the blessing of God and our good king, will
soon cease to arrogate to itself the encroachment which it has made
upon the royal prerogative."
"Note down this speech, Father John," said the messenger. "And
now, Baron of Sudley, I formally demand, in the name of Simon
Sudbury, the mitred abbot of Winchcombe, the body of Edith
Holgrave, whom you impiously and rebelliously detain against the
privileges of holy church: and—"
"Hold, minion! Cease! or you will tempt me to hang the culprit from
the battlements of yonder keep, if it were only to afford news to
your master. Presumptuous shaveling! know you not that the royal
franchise granted to this manor empowers me to sit in judgment on
my vassals, and that it is only as an act of grace that she is handed
over to a jury of the county."
"The 'act of grace,' my lord," said Father John, looking sternly at De
Boteler, "only shows that your mind is not so fully convinced of this
woman's guilt as to embolden you to take the charge of her death
entirely upon your own conscience—"
"Base-born knave! do you think you wear a coat of mail in that
hypocritical garb. Ho! Calverley, let the woman be instantly
transmitted to Gloucester castle, that my lord abbot may thunder his
anathemas against its walls, if it so please him; and then bear this
meddling monk to the tumbrel, that he may learn better than to
beard his natural lord under his own roof."
"Not so, my lord," said Isabella, at the moment entering the hall,
attracted by the loud tones of De Boteler's voice; "not so, my lord;
the tumbrel is not for such as he, however rude his bearing. My Lord
de Boteler," turning to the monk, "has doubtless given you an
answer—retire, and do not farther provoke his wrath."
"Lady," returned Father John, with dignity, "I retire at your bidding,
but not through fear of the Baron de Boteler. Let him, if he will,
insult and expose an anointed priest—but, woe to him if he does!
The blight has already fallen on the blossom—beware of the tree!"
The baroness looked rebuked; and before De Boteler could reply, the
two monks left the hall.
"Did I not anticipate this result?" said the abbot, looking sternly at
the mortified monk, as the messenger detailed the interview with
the baron.
Father John bowed.
"Your importunity," continued the abbot, "has cast this indignity on
holy church, and on me its minister; but nevertheless, this lord,
powerful though he be, must be taught obedience to that power he
has contemned."
"My lord," replied the monk, encouraged by the abbot's energy, "our
holy church, thank heaven, is not without one able and zealous
advocate. A timorous attitude at this moment would only give fresh
vigour to those who seek to abridge its power."
"Aye, my son, there has been timidity enough in those prelates, who
tamely acquiesced in the late enactment against the clergy; and,
alas! how often since have the servants of God been dragged from
the altar and imprisoned like felons, merely to gratify the haughty
barons in their desire to humble our holy religion! The king, too, is a
masked enemy, and countenances the impious attempts to abridge
our rights."
"And yet, my lord," returned John, "the church is the natural bulwark
of royalty: by humbling it, he paralyzes a power the most zealous,
and the best calculated to maintain the divine right of kings."
"It is, indeed, the stay and hope of monarchy," replied Sudbury; "but
kings are men, and fallible. This woman's case will, nevertheless,
demonstrate whether further encroachments will be submitted to by
the prelates without a struggle. I shall write letters to the Archbishop
of Canterbury and the Abbot of Westminster, and you, my son, shall
bear them to London. Retire for the present, and prepare for your
journey."
The abbot was as good as his word, and presently the fate of the
obscure Edith Holgrave became a question which kindled the fires of
party zeal in half the noble breasts in the kingdom. It is not to the
purpose of our story to describe the intrigue which, at this period,
tore asunder the court of Edward. Suffice it to say, that after many
stormy discussions in the cabinet, at which the abbot's first
messenger, father John, and De Boteler himself, were interrogated—
the church triumphed; the Baron of Sudley was condemned to offer
an expiatory gift, and a writ was issued to prohibit the court of
assize from trying the prisoner.
On the day the prohibitory writ left London, a small iron box, with a
superscription, addressed to Thomas Calverley, was left by a
stranger at Sudley Castle, and immediately after, by another
messenger, a packet, in which, within many envelopes, a key was
concealed. Calverley, naturally concluding that this key belonged to
the box he had just received, with a variety of perplexing
conjectures, unlocked it, and beheld the crimson damask dress of a
pursuivant, on which the royal arms were embroidered in gold, and
beneath the dress a purse of gold coin and a scroll of parchment, on
which the following was written, evidently in a disguised hand:—
"A chancery messenger will leave London on the morning you
receive this: he is the bearer of a writ to prohibit the court of assize
at Gloucester from trying Edith Holgrave.—Surely justice should not
be thus defeated—the messenger will rest for some time to-morrow
evening at Northleach.—Could not the dress that accompanies this
enable you to demand the writ from the messenger in the king's
name. Remember, however, the writ must not reach Gloucester."
Calverley started at the boldness of the proposition, and resolved,
much as he desired that Edith should suffer, not to engage in so
daring an act. But in a few minutes, as his mind became more
familiarized with the idea, much of the supposed danger of the
undertaking disappeared. He might disguise his countenance so,
that, aided by the dress, detection would be almost impossible; and
even if detected, the letter, which, despite of every effort at
concealment, bore evidence of the Lady Isabella's handwriting,
would compel her to exert all her influence in his favour.
Nevertheless, Calverley, possessing less physical than moral courage,
could not bring himself to look with total indifference upon even the
possibility of personal danger, and he determined, therefore, to
associate with him in the adventure the bold and reckless Byles.
Calverley would have willingly risked every thing but his personal
safety to be revenged of her who strove to attach to him the
suspicion of crime; and even when mounted on his steed, with a
large dark cloak thrown over him to conceal the material of his
dress, lest its singularity should attract observation, he could not
help feeling a slight inward trepidation.
As they proceeded, the heath gradually assumed the appearance of
a scanty wood, the trees became more numerous, the thickets of
greater extent, and the animal on which Calverley rode was
frequently impeded by the withering stumps of trees that had been
carelessly felled. He alighted just at the point where an abrupt
opening between the clustering thickets led by a circuitous path of
not more than a hundred yards to the high road to Gloucester.
Here Calverley's quick ear caught the sound of the tramping of a
horse—his heart beat quick—it might be a traveller journeying to
Gloucester, but it was more probable that it was the messenger. He
threw the bridle of his horse over the branch of a tree, sprang to the
end of the path, and, concealing himself behind the under-wood,
discovered in a moment, by the dark medley hue of the rider's dress,
that it was the man he expected. He hurried back, and, mounting his
steed, waited till the echo of the horse's hoofs could no longer be
distinguished; and then, giving the impulse to his own spirited
animal, he was the next moment bounding at full speed after the
messenger, followed at a distance by his accomplice.
Calverley was a good horseman, and it was but a short space ere he
was within a few yards of the messenger, and shouting to him to
halt. The man stopped, and, turning in his saddle, surveyed with
some surprise (which could be seen even in the duskiness of
twilight) the bright colours that distinguished the garb of a
pursuivant.
"What! for Gloucester, friend? You must have been hard upon my
heels the whole way for——"
"No," interrupted Calverley, in an assumed gruffness of tone, and
with something more than his usual authoritativeness, "my journey
is ended now. The king has recalled that writ of prohibition you were
to deliver to the judge. You are to return the writ to me, and
proceed with your other dispatches."
The messenger had heard—for state secrets will sometimes transpire
—that the chancellor had a struggle to obtain the writ; and this
knowledge, though it made him the more readily credit Calverley's
assertion, yet vexed him that his master should be foiled. Looking,
therefore, with a surly scrutiny at the steward—
"The writ," said he, "was given to me by my lord archbishop; and
how do I know that I should be right in surrendering it to a
stranger? Have you any order from his grace?"
"Order from his grace," repeated Calverley, sarcastically: "Do you not
know, my good friend, that your master is in disgrace with mine, and
that the eloquent William of Wykeham will, ere many days pass, be
high chancellor of England. Come, come, give me the writ, and don't
lose time. I must not stir from my saddle this night, unless to change
horses, till I reach Westminster."
The news of Islip's dismissal confounded the messenger. This new
pursuivant might be in the interest of William of Wykeham, and it
would be ill policy to make an enemy where every good office might
be wanting to preserve him his situation. At all events, there was
little use in contending: he accordingly unlocked his bag, and
Calverley, with a thrill of pleasure, felt the writ within his grasp.
A hasty salutation passed, and the horsemen rode off in opposite
directions. Calverley then, sending his associate home, spurred on to
Gloucester.
The steward's first care was to put up his horse at an inn a little
within the north-gate of Gloucester; and then, proceeding on to
where the four streets, leading from the four gates of the city form a
cross, he went down Westgate-street, and, passing the beautiful
cathedral, presently reached the Severn. The evening was dark, and,
looking cautiously round, he dropt the damask dress,—and, as he
thought, the prohibitory writ,—in the oblivious waters.

CHAPTER V.
The steward, after thus relieving his mind from all anxiety respecting
the dress, proceeded to the sign of the Mitre in Silver Girdle-street, a
well known resort for certain useful adjuncts to the courts of law.
Calverley entered the Mitre, and, after calling for some wine, was
shown into a little private room by the host. A few minutes after, the
door opened, and a man entered and took his seat at the end of the
table at which Calverley was sitting. The individual who thus invaded
the privacy of the steward was a man not much above the middle
height. His face had once been comely, but a close intimacy with the
bottle had given to his countenance a bloated and somewhat
revolting expression. The latter peculiarity, however, was only to be
detected by the few who read the heart in the "human face divine;"
and even these might be deceived into a prepossession favourable
to the man; for his large, full, blue eyes, beamed with much
apparent benevolence, and his nose, though clothed in a fiery
mantle and tipped with two large carbuncles, was not a nose that
Lavater himself could with conscience have objected to. Large,
black, whiskers, and thick, bushy, hair, with a beard of the same
hue, had given him the characteristic soubriquet of Black Jack. On
the whole his appearance and deportment were those of a
respectable burgher of the period. This man was not a stranger to
Calverley, and Black Jack was, by some chance, still better
acquainted with the person and character of the steward. He had
heard every particular relative to the child's death, and consequently
divined the motive of the steward's visit to the Mitre, and, as he now
and then cast a keen glance at Calverley, he might be likened to the
author of evil contemplating a man about to engage in some
heinous offence, the commission of which would connect them in
still closer affinity.
A flaggon of ale soon followed Black Jack, in which he drank
Calverley's health with the familiarity of an old acquaintance, though
this was the first time he had interchanged courtesies with the
steward, who returned the compliment coldly, though not in that
repulsive tone which forbids further intimacy.
A pause of a few minutes ensued, and though each was anxious to
introduce some allusion to the intended trial, yet both hesitated to
begin;—Calverley, from a prudential fear of committing himself, and
Black Jack from an apprehension of hazarding a chance of
employment by too ready a proffer of his services.
The latter became tired first of his reserve, and perceiving that
Calverley, like a spirit, would only speak when spoken to, resolved,
with characteristic modesty, to plunge in medias res.
"Master," said he, "you are here, no doubt, on the business of the
witch? For my part, I hold such creatures in religious abhorrence.
That's neither here nor there, however—can I do anything to serve
you?—That is the short of the matter."
"Master Oakley," replied the steward, with a grim smile which told he
knew his man, "you have correctly surmised the business that brings
Lord de Boteler's steward to the Mitre—you know the particulars of
the affair?"
"I do."
"Well," resumed Calverley, "the evidence is not so good as I could
wish. A country jury might acquit her."
"Aye, aye, I see—it shall be done—she returns no more to
Winchcombe——"
"But, you know," interrupted Calverley, quickly, "that she deserves
death for the death she has inflicted."
"That's neither here nor there: I never trouble myself about such
matters—I am no schoolman—the judge will see to that; and, if she
is to be disposed of, it matters little whether by substantial free-
holders or myself and my eleven."
The price was now agreed upon, and the purse that accompanied
the pursuivant's dress was more than sufficient to satisfy the
exorbitant demand of the foreman.
"I may depend upon you, Master Oakley?" said the suspicious
steward, pausing at the door.
"By the green wax! may you—Black Jack is a man of honour. As sure
as Judge Skipwith sits on the bench, so sure shall I and my men sit
in the jury-box. He is a carle to doubt me," said Black Jack, as
Calverley shut the door—"Has he emptied his flask? No—by the
green wax! he seems to think as little of his wine as his money;"
and, after emptying the cup, left the Mitre.
The next night, being the eve of the trial, Black Jack entered the
Mitre, and, ordering a fresh gallon of stout ale, proceeded on to the
little room where he had seen Calverley, and in which, around an
oak table which nearly filled the area of the apartment, ten men
were seated. A measure stood before them which they had just
emptied, and were murmuring at their leader's close hand that
restricted them to a single gallon.
This room was sacred to the confraternity: here they held their
meetings—here they were instructed by their chief in the parts
allotted to them in the shifting drama of crime. And here, under lock
and key, pledged to the host, were the garments in which they
appeared in the jury-box as respectable yeomen. Black Jack cast a
rapid glance round the table as he entered, and perceiving one seat
still unoccupied, he frowned with impatience.
"What!" exclaimed he, "has Beauchamp broke cover on such a night
as this? Speak!"
"He has not been seen to-day," said a sleek-faced old man who sat
opposite.
"Not seen to-day—hah!—Has the fellow shrieved himself? or is he
laid up after last night's tipple?"
"Aye, Master," said another, "he is laid up but I fear he has forgot
the shrieving. However, he will never again say guilty or not guilty in
a jury-box, or kiss the book in justification of bail!"
"Saints protect us! not dead!" exclaimed the foreman. The man
nodded assent:—"Then, by the green wax! we shall lose two of the
best jobs we have had these three years. Come, come, Harvey, you
only banter—the knave is lazy."
"By Saint Luke, poor Beauchamp is as dead as he need be, master,"
answered Harvey. "I saw him this morning, and his face was as black
as—your own this moment!"
Black Jack seized the empty flaggon and was about to hurl it at the
head of the facetious under-strapper, when his arm was arrested by
the old man who had first spoken.
"Hold, master," said he, "you will find it difficult to fill Beauchamp's
seat, without making another vacancy."
The irritated foreman replaced the flaggon on the table but swore he
would have no more jesting. "Poor Beauchamp," continued he, "is
gone—the cleverest man among ye—no whining—no qualms about
him, when a shilling was to be earned by swallowing a pill or
sending a traveller before his time to the other world! How unlucky,
he had not postponed his flight for another week; this witch would
then be disposed of and the sheriff satisfied. Poor Jack, poor Jack!
where shall we find a substitute—but a substitute must be had if it
were he of the cloven foot himself! This news has made me thirsty,"
continued he, raising the pitcher to his lips, "but remember, no
jesting."
Black Jack then buried his face in his hands for some minutes,
meditating how he should supply the place of the defunct
Beauchamp. In vain he racked his brain; he knew many who would
accept the offer, but they were untried.
"This assize will be a hungry feast," he at length exclaimed; "we may
bid adieu to the Mitre—I must refund the money I received on
account of the witch, and the old Ferrett, too, must have his earnest
money—what is to be done? Do ye know any one who could be
trusted to stand in the shoes of Beauchamp?"
"We leave the filling up vacancies to our foreman," returned they.
"Aye, aye! ye shrink from responsibility, and throw all on my
shoulders," returned Black Jack, snatching up a renewed flagon, and
drinking freely, as if to forget his perplexity in the intoxicating
influence of the beverage. "Aye, aye! but, knaves, the money ye
have received must be refunded, and ye may go starve, or rob, for
aught I care."
"But, master, where, think you, shall it be found?" answered Harvey:
"you might as well dissolve this society, as think of making us refund
what is already scattered in every corner of Gloucester."
"Dissolve this society! impudent knave!" retorted the foreman: "I
should like to know what new profession ye are fit for: how could ye
live but for me? Think ye the sheriff would expose himself by
communing with such untaught knaves? No more sulkiness, or I take
you at your word. Give me another swoop of the goblet." It was
handed to him, and, after ingulphing a long draught, he slowly drew
breath—his eyes were observed to brighten with some new idea,
and, in a moment after, he started from his seat, exclaiming, in a
burst of joy:
"By the green wax! I've got him!—I've got him at last—I shall be
back in half an hour!" He then darted out of the room, leaving his
confederates conjecturing who the welcome auxiliary was to be that
should fill the void at the oak table.
It was a full hour, however, before the indefatigable purveyor re-
appeared, accompanied by a dark, sun-burnt looking young man,
attired in the garb of a dusty-foot or foreign pedlar. He appeared to
be one of an inferior description of Galley-men, or Genoese
merchants, (as described by Stowe,) who traded to England, and
trafficked with a coin called galley-half-pence. They chiefly resided at
a wharf named Galley Key, in Thames-street, and travelled as
itinerant hawkers through the kingdom. His countenance, however,
was not that of a Genoese—it had more the appearance of the
English cast of features, though, judging from its dark and seaman-
like hue, it was many years since he left his native country.
"Come, my friends, be not cast down! Black Jack and his eleven are
themselves again!" cried the foreman, exultingly. "Here, Harvey, fill
up a goblet for our new friend. Poor Jack's chair is occupied during
the assize; see ye make much of his successor."
"Is he not engaged as a fixture?" asked Harvey, with some
disappointment.
"No, no, Harvey; his feet are not for the narrow limits of Gloucester.
He is a bird of passage, that makes its periodical migrations, and
cannot be called peculiar to one country more than another: in
short, he is a kind of privileged outlaw."
"Aye, aye, master; he breathes the various atmospheres of
Christendom, and yet I'll swear he is a dog of a heathen,
notwithstanding, ha! ha! ha! No offence," he added, addressing the
galleyman; "jests are privileged in this free society."
"Christian men," returned the dusty-foot, good-humouredly, "would
be suffocated in this poisonous air you breathe, and would die, like
the heathen, without benefit of clergy."
"That's right, galleyman—you have hit him there. That knave's skull
is a perfect book of entries, and can furnish precedents for every
crime, from high treason to a simple assault. He'll crack jokes to the
last. But, by the green wax! we must think of a proper description
for him, to insert in the pannel. Let me see—aye, I have it. A man
from Worcester has lately settled at Deerhurst; his name is James
Mills, a substantial man. Here, Harvey," as he took from his pocket a
slip of parchment, and wrote the necessary particulars, and sealed it
carefully, "take this to Lawyer Manlove. We must now see whether
Beauchamp's clothes will suit our friend here."
The host was called in, and unlocked a drawer in which they were
deposited. The galleyman, with visible reluctance, arrayed himself in
the garments, and he was observed to shudder more than once
during the investiture of the dead man's apparel.
"He's better have some warm ale," said the old man we have before
mentioned, with a sneer—"these garments seem to weigh down the
spirit of our new guest."
"Aye, and well they may," returned the foreman: "it is not every man
who could feel at ease in the clothes of a——Hang it! my brain
wanders—fill up a fresh bumper." Another and another followed, and
dispelled all symptoms of compunction in the heart of the foreman
and his companions; till even their new guest, so powerful is
example, was almost persuaded that conscience was a bug-bear. It
was late ere they separated, to re-assemble the next morning for
more important transactions.
The next morning, Sir Robert Skipwith, Chief Justice of England,
entered the court, and took his seat on the bench. After the names
of the jury were called over, Black Jack, and the eleven, respectively
answered, and entered the box, clad in respectable yeomen's or
burgher's apparel, and their countenances wearing a gravity suitable
to the occasion. They looked like a jury to whom either a guilty or
innocent prisoner would, unhesitatingly, have committed his cause.
When the prisoner was asked whether she had any objection to the
jury, and told, that if so, she might challenge the number prescribed
by law, the attention of the spectators was naturally fixed on Edith,
who replied in the negative; and her face and figure were certainly
ill-calculated to make a favourable impression.
Her face was shrivelled and yellow, and the dark full eyes that now,
as it were, stood forth from the sunken cheeks, looked with a
strange brightness on the scene, and seemed well adapted to stamp
the character of witch on so withered a form. And perhaps there
were few of those entirely uninterested in the matter who now
gazed upon her, who would not have sworn that she merited the
stake.
Calverley had beheld the group as they entered the court, and
instantly averting his eyes from the mother and son, he fixed them
upon Margaret.
The stranger's eyes that now gazed upon her, beheld her as a lovely,
interesting creature; but Calverley, who had not seen her since the
day that Edith was arrested, saw that the rich glow which used to
mantle on her cheek, had given place to a sickly paleness. It is true,
that as she entered the court, there was a faint tinge upon that
cheek, but it fled with the momentary embarrassment which had
caused it. That full dimpled cheek itself was now sunken, the lips
were colourless, and the eyes dim.
A momentary thought of "Oh, had she been mine, would she have
looked thus?" and an execration against Holgrave told that the
demon had not wholly possessed her quondam lover; but the next
moment, as Holgrave, after looking round the assembly, caught the
eye of his enemy, the solitary feeling of humanity died away, and
Calverley turned from the fierce glance of the yeoman with all the
malignity of his heart newly arrayed against him.
After the usual preliminaries, the indictment was read, and Edith
called upon to plead:
"Not guilty, my lord," she replied, in a voice so loud and distinct, that
the surprised hearers wondered so feeble a creature could possess
such a voice.
The evidence was then entered into, and Mary Byles was called into
the witness box. A rod was handed to her to identify the prisoner,
and she then, without venturing to encounter the look of her whose
life she was about to swear away, deposed to having received the
liquid which had occasioned the child's death, from Edith; and to
certain mysterious words and strange gestures used by the prisoner
on delivering the phial.
When she had concluded, Edith questioned her, if she had not, at
the time of giving her the medicine, warned her of its dangerous
strength, and strictly enjoined her not to administer more than ten
drops; but Mary, prepared for such questions, positively denied the
fact, alleging, that Edith had merely desired her, when she saw the
child looking pale, to give it the contents of the phial.
"My lord," said Edith, in her defence, "this woman has sworn falsely.
The medicine I gave was a sovereign remedy, if given as I ordered.
Ten drops would have saved the child's life; but the contents of the
phial destroyed it. The words I uttered were prayers for the life of
the child. My children, and all who know me, can bear witness that I
have a custom of asking His blessing upon all I take in hand. I raised
my eyes towards heaven, and muttered words; but, my lord, they
were words of prayer—and I looked up as I prayed, to the footstool
of the Lord. But it is in vain to contend: the malice of the wicked will
triumph, and Edith Holgrave, who even in thought never harmed one
of God's creatures, must be sacrificed to cover the guilt, or hide the
thoughtlessness of another."
"Prisoner," said the judge, "have you any witnesses to call on your
behalf?"
"My lord, my daughter was present when I gave the medicine; but I
seek no defence."
Margaret faintly answered to her name, and entered the box. She
delivered her evidence with so much simplicity and meekness, that it
seemed to carry conviction to the majority of the audience. In vain
did the wily lawyer for the prosecution endeavour to weaken her
testimony on her cross-examination. Truth, from the lips of
innocence, triumphed over the practised advocate, and Edith would
probably have had a favourable verdict from an impartial jury and an
upright judge; but from the present, she was to receive no mercy.
The jury were bribed to convict, and the judge influenced to
condemn. Skipwith now proceeded to sum up the evidence, artfully
endeavouring to impress the jury with the strongest belief in the
statement of the nurse, "who," he said, "could have no motive but
that of bringing to justice the destroyer of her lord's heir;" and, on
the other hand, insinuating, as he commented on Margaret's
evidence, that her near relationship to the prisoner must be
cautiously weighed: but ere he had concluded, a sound at the
entrance of the court attracted his attention. Horton, the tall and
dignified abbot of Gloucester, with his mitre on his head, his staff in
his hand, and clad in the robes of his order (that of Saint Benedict),
entered the hall. His crosierer preceded him, bearing a massive
golden cross; on his right and left hand walked two monks, and
several others, (among whom was father John,) closed the
procession.
A passage was instinctively made for the dignitary, who walked
majestically on till he stood before the bench, and then pausing, he
said in a clear, firm voice—
"My lord judge, I demand, in the name of holy church, and in the
name of the gracious king Edward, that you deliver up this woman,
Edith Holgrave, to me. A writ from the chancery, signed by the royal
hand, commanding her delivery to the ecclesiastical power, has been
sent down, and how is it that thus, in opposition to the church's
prerogative, and the royal will, I see the woman standing a criminal
at this bar?"
"My lord abbot," replied Skipwith, bowing to the priest, "the writ you
speak of has been recalled; a chancery messenger was here not
three days since."
"Did he not deliver to you the writ?" interrupted the impetuous
Horton.
"Pardon me, my lord abbot, but I believe I have already said, that
the writ has been recalled. The messenger, indeed, came with a
prohibitory writ respecting the prisoner; but when, within a few
miles of Gloucester, a royal pursuivant, expressly from the king,
overtook him, and to him the writ was delivered."
The calm dignity of Skipwith's reply produced some effect upon the
abbot; for in a tone less abrupt than before, he replied—
"My lord judge, that writ of prohibition has not been recalled. This
monk," pointing with his staff towards father John, "left London two
days subsequent to the messenger, and there was not then the least
intimation of the royal mind being changed."
"My lord," returned Skipwith, with a slight smile, "know you so little
of Edward as to imagine that no change could pass in his royal mind
without the monk being privy to it?"
"But," returned Horton, losing his temper at such scepticism, "this
monk was lodged in the palace of his Grace of Canterbury; and, at
the very hour of his departure, his Grace spoke as if the surrender of
the woman were already accomplished. Would he have spoken thus
had the writ been recalled?"
"Probably his Grace was ignorant that the prohibition was recalled?"
"Simon Islip ignorant! However, you admit that a writ was sent?"
Skipwith bowed.
"Then as readily may you believe that it had been kept back through
fraud and malice, and that you have brought this woman before a
tribunal incompetent to judge of matters relating to witchcraft. But
now, my lord judge, repair the wrong done, by delivering her up to a
dignitary of holy church."
"Abbot Horton," returned the chief justice, gravely, "the poisoning
has been satisfactorily proved, and a strong presumption of
witchcraft created in my mind, from the mysterious behaviour of the
prisoner when the drug was delivered to the nurse. But even were
the witchcraft a more prominent feature of the case, I do consider
the king's courts are empowered by the late act, which provides that
all felonies may be heard and determined by the king's justices, to
take cognizance of this crime. Witchcraft is a felony at common law."
"That act," replied Horton, hastily, "relates to local magistrates."
"And are the judges of the land to be less privileged than petty
magistrates?"
"I came not to argue points of law, my lord judge," returned Horton,
vehemently, "but to demand a right. Will you surrender this
woman?"
"My lord abbot," replied Skipwith, "the indictment has been read—
the evidence has been gone through with the customary attention to
justice—I have only to finish my charge to the jury, and it will remain
with them to pronounce her guilt or innocence."
The cool and determined tone of the chief justice exasperated the
abbot; and, fixing a stern glance upon the judge,
"It is not justice, Sir Robert Skipwith," said he, "to wrest the
unfortunate from the merciful interposition of the church—it is not
justice, but a high contempt of supreme law, to set at nought the
merciful commands of the sovereign—it is not justice to usurp a
power that belongs not to you, in order to crush a friendless woman
—it is not justice to set the opinions of an individual against the
sacred authority of God's church. The church alone, I repeat, has
power to judge in cases where the soul is concerned, as in heresy
and witchcraft."
His voice had risen with each pause in the period, till the last
sentence was uttered in a tone that reverberated through the court.
An instant of hushed silence followed, and then, to the surprise of
all, Edith raised herself up as erect as her feebleness would allow,
and resting one hand upon the bar, she raised the other towards the
abbot, and said,
"My lord abbot, my soul is guiltless of any crime which the church in
its mercy absolves, or the law in its justice punishes—I am neither
murderess nor witch. As much would my soul abhor communing
with the spirits of darkness, as my heart would shrink from
destroying the innocent——"
"Peace, woman!" interrupted the abbot: "peace—presume not to
interfere." And then, turning to the judge, he added, "Sir Robert
Skipwith, I again demand of you the custody of this woman."
"Abbot Horton, you have had my answer," returned Skipwith, in a
tone of perhaps still more vehemence than the abbot's.
The face of the provoked dignitary glowed, his eyes flashed, and he
looked, in his glittering mitre and splendid vestments, like a being
more than human, as, turning from the judge, and raising the staff
he held in his right hand, he pointed it towards the assembled
crowd, and said,
"I call upon this assembly to witness, that I have, in the name of
holy church, demanded the accused—that I have demanded her in
the name of the king, by virtue of his royal writ of prohibition, which
has been basely purloined—and that, unmindful of that divine power,
and despite the king's express command, Judge Skipwith, the
servant of the one, and an unworthy son of the other, has
contemptuously refused this demand. But," he added fiercely, as he
again turned towards Skipwith, and shook his staff at the no less
irritated judge, "the royal ermine is disgraced on the shoulders of
such as thee—beware that it is not speedily transferred to one more
worthy to bear it. I say again, beware!"
The abbot then lowered his staff, the crosierer once more preceded
him, and, followed by the monks, he proudly walked forth from the
court, the people, as he passed, forming a passage, and humbly
bending forward to receive his blessing.
The eyes of the spectators, which, during this strange scene—this
trial of strength between the lay and ecclesiastical dignitaries—had
alternately wandered to each, were now anxiously directed to
Skipwith alone, who hastily concluded his charge, and turned to the
jury, as the arbiters of Edith's fate. Calverley, among the rest, cast a
look at the jury-box: and Black Jack, turning to his companions,
proceeded, in the usual manner, to ask their opinions. Ten, after a
minute's consultation, decided that the prisoner was guilty; but the
eleventh, the stranger who had endeavoured to screen himself from
observation, and whose changing aspect and agitation had betrayed
the deep interest he took in the trial, positively refused to return a
verdict of guilty. Black Jack cast an intimidating glance on the non-
content, but he heeded him not; and as the jury-box, exposed to the
eyes of the whole court, was not a place for further debate, the
foreman declared, that as one of his brethren would not agree with
the rest, they must withdraw.
When the jurors were closeted in their private room, Black Jack
asked the galleyman the reasons of his refusal.
"There was no evidence to prove her guilt—I could not, on my
conscience, say she was a murderess," returned the stranger, firmly.
"Conscience!" replied the foreman: "who ever heard a galleyman talk
of conscience before? By the green wax! you forgot you had a
conscience the day I first saw you. You recollect the court of pié-
poudré, my conscientious dusty-foot, don't you?"
"Master Oakley, the thing is quite different," replied the galleyman.
"To cheat a fool of a piece of coin, is what neither you nor I would
think much about; but to rob a poor, helpless old woman of her life
—to hang her up at a gallows, and then to bury her like a heathen,
where four roads meet—no, no; that must not be."
The foreman's face assumed a deeper hue than usual: he looked
fiercely at the galleyman, but there was a determination in the
weather-beaten face that made him pause ere he spoke.
"Galleyman," he at length said, "you knew the business before you
came: if you be so fond of saving old witches' lives, why didn't you
say so, that I might not now be in this dilemma?"
"You told me," returned the other, "she was a witch, and that she
had killed the child. Now I know she is not a witch; and neither you
nor any one here believes a word of the poisoning."
"You heard what the judge said," returned Oakley: "but, however,
you are a sworn jury-man, and here you must remain till you've
brought your mind to bear upon the point."
"Aye, aye," said Harvey; "four-and-twenty hours in this cold room,
without meat or drink, will bring him to reason, I'll warrant you."
"Four-and-twenty days," said the stranger, in a voice so loud that the
eleven started, "if I could live so long, shall never make me a
murderer! No, no; you may go tell of the lushburgs, and hang me for
a coiner," he said, starting suddenly up, and looking proudly at Black
Jack; "but, by the holy well! you shall not make me hang the woman
who nursed my mother, and prayed by her when every body else
was afraid to go near her. She a witch!" he continued, with a bitter
laugh—"by the holy well! if she had been so, she wouldn't have
given the poor orphan a groat and a piece of bread, to come back,
after ten years, to hang her at last! But this comes of carding and
dicing, and sabbath-breaking. The fiend drives one on and on, till at
last a man thinks nothing of murder itself."
"By the green wax! all this ranting is unprofitable. No one could call
Black Jack an informer when his word was pledged," interrupted the
foreman. "The affair of the lushburgs has passed away—it shall rest
so, though I might pocket some good pieces by a breach of faith,
which, after this obstinacy, would not detract much from my honour.
This woman is nothing to us, and surely the judge, who is paid to
hang criminals, knows more about the guilt or innocence than I or
my eleven. He told us, as plainly as man could speak, that she
deserved to be hanged. But, remember, galleyman, neither you nor I
break our fast till our opinions are unanimous?" Black Jack winked at
his companions but the action was unnoticed by the stranger.
During this mock deliberation, Edith remained at the bar; but when
the hour had passed away, and no probability appeared of an
immediate verdict, she was directed by the judge to be taken back
to prison until the jury had agreed.
It was nearly noon the next day, when the under-sheriff entered the
room to ask if their opinions were yet unanimous. The galleyman still
refused.
"My friend," said Manlove; "it matters little now whether you agree
with your brethren or not, the woman is at this moment dying! The
verdict is, therefore, of little moment to her—she can never be
brought into court to receive judgment—guilty or innocent, the law
can have nothing to do with her; but I would advise you to look to
yourself, you will not be released till she is dead. Your brethren are
accustomed to fasting, but you look ready to drop from your seat:
and, if the woman linger many hours, you will certainly be guilty of
felo de se."
With a little more persuasion and the most solemn assurances that
the verdict could not possibly affect Edith, the galleyman at length
reluctantly consented to agree with the eleven, and the foreman
gave in the verdict of guilty.
"Let the prisoner be brought up for judgment?" said Skipwith to the
officer in waiting.
"It is impossible, my lord—the woman is dying!"
"Dying!" repeated the judge, "yesterday she spoke with the voice of
one who had years to live. Perhaps she wishes to defer the
sentence, which she well merits, by feigning illness. If she will not
rise from her bed, bring her into court upon it!"
The officer departed, and shortly afterwards re-appeared, and
informed the judge that the Abbot of Gloucester was standing beside
the prisoner and threatened to excommunicate the first who
presumed to remove her.
"Does he? Does he dare think to evade justice thus—this subterfuge
shall not avail!" exclaimed Skipwith with vehemence, and then
musing an instant, he continued: "No, this subterfuge shall not avail
—I will constitute the cell of the criminal a court of justice for this
occasion. Officers of the Court proceed. I go to pronounce a just
sentence:" and then, rising from the bench, and preceded by his
officers, he departed to adopt the unprecedented course of passing
sentence in a prison.
When the door of the dungeon was thrown open, Skipwith started at
the unexpected sight he beheld; but, instantly recollecting himself,
he walked on, determined to persevere. Edith was lying on her back
upon the mattress, her eyes half opened, and the ghastly seal of
death impressed on every feature. Margaret and her husband were
kneeling on one side, and the Abbot Horton and Father John
standing on the other. A lighted taper and a box of chrism, which the
monk held in his hand, told that the last sacrament of the church
had been administered—a sacrament that cannot be administered to
a condemned criminal.
Holgrave suddenly rose from his knees and withdrew to the farthest
corner of the cell. Margaret continued to kneel, and raised her
burning eyes towards the judge with terrified astonishment.
The abbot turned pale with rage as he beheld the somewhat
abashed Skipwith enter.
"What! impious man! Do you thirst so for innocent blood that you
harass the last moments of the dying! Retire, or I curse thee—
depart, ere I invoke heaven's wrath on thine head!"
"Insolent priest!" returned Skipwith, in a suppressed tone, as his
look wandered from the abbot to the distorted features of the
departing. "I come, not as an individual to harass, but as a judge to
fulfil the law."
He then put on the black cap and slowly commenced the sentence.
The life that had seemed to have departed from the still and
contracted form, rallied for a moment—the eyes unclosed and fixed
on the appalled countenance of Skipwith; and, when the concluding
invocation of mercy for the soul of the criminal fell tremulously from
the lips of the judge, she, in a voice low but distinct, answered
"Amen!" and then a slight tremor and a faint gasp released the soul
of Edith.
"The Lord will have mercy on her, vindictive judge," said the abbot,
"though you had none; but she is now beyond your malice, and the
glorified spirit will accuse you of this when——"
A wild shriek from Margaret, and a smothered groan from Holgrave,
interrupted the abbot. The judge turned silently away, and left the
dungeon: and, as there was now no prisoner to confine, the door
was left open after him.

CHAPTER VI.
On the evening succeeding the day of Edith's decease, Black Jack's
associates were, as usual, squandering away their ill-got money at
the Mitre. A ribald song was just concluded, when a loud knock
caught the attention of the foreman: the door was opened, and the
galleyman entered. His countenance looked pale and haggard, and
without speaking, he threw himself in a chair.
"What ails you, man?" inquired Black Jack—"you look the worse for
your long fast—here, drink," handing him a full pitcher.
"I want no drink," said the galleyman, impatiently, pushing away the
vessel—"but stay, 't will do me no harm."
He then snatched the pitcher and drank a full quart ere he removed
it from his lips.
"Master Oakley," said he, "you played me false in this game. Do ye
think if I hadn't been fool enough to believe what you and that
master sheriff told me, I would have given in till poor Edith Holgrave
had slipt her cable. Did you not swear to me," added he fiercely,
"that the law could not touch her?"
"True, O king; and though the judge did a queer thing in her case,
yet the woman died like a Christian in her bed after all."
"Is she buried like a Christian?" passionately interrogated the
stranger. "No," he continued, in a quieter tone, "she was buried last
night in the high road without kyste or shroud, or prayer, just as one
would throw a dead dog overboard: but there is no use talking now
—this is not what I came for. I came to ask if ye will give me a hand
to get her out again."
"To dig up the old witch out of the grave!" inquired the foreman with
a stare of astonishment. "To unearth a dead body! By the green
wax! man, your long fast has touched your brain!"
"No," said the galleyman, gravely. "I am as sound and as sober as
ever I was; and, mind you, (casting a quick glance round the table) I
don't want any one to work for nothing—here, (he said, taking a
small leathern purse from his pocket) is what will pay, and I shall be
no niggard. You shall have money and drink too—speak! will you
assist? There is no time to lose."
"What say you, brethren?" resumed the foreman, looking at the rest:
"our friend served us—and besides, it is a pity to let good things go
a-begging."
The brethren felt no great appetite for a job so much out of their
way—and sundry hems! and awkward gesticulations expressed their
reluctance.
"Suppose we do assist," drawled out Harvey and three or four
others; "who is to remove the body?" the galleyman hastily
answered,
"Leave it to me—I fear not the dead—though if the old woman
started from the grave, she could owe me no good will. Would you
lend a hand if this Calverley should bear down upon us?"
"Aye, aye," said Harvey, with some shew of courage; "we don't
mind, unless the odds are against us, and in that case, you know,
we must retreat."
"What!" said Black Jack, laughing, "think you squire Calverley would
busy himself about the dead! Come, come, tell out the silver, and
replenish the flagon: we are yours for this adventure—and, by the
green wax! a strange one it is."
The sum agreed upon was paid; the liquor furnished and freely
circulated; and the galleyman, now relieved from a weight that had
oppressed him, gradually became cheerful.
It was about midnight when the party set out, well armed and
muffled in large cloaks, and in less than two hours arrived within
view of Winchcombe. Here, without entering the town, they turned
into a lane branching off to the left, that led to Hailes Abbey, and
down this avenue the galleyman piloted his companions. The way
was narrow—at least two only could ride abreast—with a hedge on
each side, and here and there the picturesque branches of a well-
grown elm, displaying at this season (in the daylight) the soft green
of the budding leaves. They had proceeded in silence about half a
mile, when the galleyman suddenly paused.
"Yonder," he said, pointing to the end of the lane, "where you see
the moonlight full on the ground—must be the place—at least it
cannot be far off, for there the roads meet. There is this lane and
the road straight ahead to Hailes—then away to the right takes you
to Sudley Castle and the other end of Winchcombe; and the road
this way, elevating his left hand, leads on to Bishop's Cleave."
"But you have brought nothing to put the body in?"
"I brought a winding-sheet," replied the stranger; "and when the
grave is dug, and the coast clear, I'll wrap it round poor Edith, and
lay her in my cloak—and ye will hold the corners."
"O yes," returned Black Jack; "we won't go from our promise. But
where do you mean to take her?"
"To Hailes.—But when all is ready, I must go up the lane yonder,"
pointing to the right—"'tis but a step, and fetch Stephen Holgrave—
and the poor fellow shall go with us to see his mother buried as she
ought to be."
The party then dismounting, secured their horses to the hedge; and,
concealing their faces by masks of parchment, smeared over with
paint, proceeded to the end of the lane: but a sudden exclamation
from the galleyman, who was a little in advance, arrested the steps
of all.
The moon was standing round and bright in a sky gemmed with
stars, and, as the rover had just said, her beams fell unshadowed
upon the open space where the roads met;—and here, directly in
the centre, two dark figures were revealed. One was kneeling, while
the other stood erect, holding at arm's length a cross. The
galleyman gasped for breath as he drew closer to his companions,
who, concealed in the shade of the hedge, looked eagerly at the
objects of their alarm.
"Are they spirits?" asked the stranger in a subdued and terrified
tone.
"O yes, my brave heart!" said the foreman, with something of
ridicule; "they are spirits, but spirits in the flesh—like good wine in
stout bottles."
"Aye, aye," said Harvey, encouraged by the unembarrassed manner
of his leader; "they are spirits I'll warrant, that can be laid by swords
and staves instead of prayers!"
The galleyman breathed freer at this united testimony that he had
nought to fear—for he feared none of this world;—and as he still
gazed, almost entirely relieved from his superstitious dread, he
observed the extended arm of the upright figure gradually fall to his
side, as if his prayer or invocation had ended, and he stooped as if
addressing his companion; but the latter still maintained his kneeling
posture.
"It must be Stephen," said he, mentally; "he is mourning over his
mother. Comrades," he said, turning to the others, "it is but the
woman's son: at any rate there are but two. I'll go and hail them;
and if ye see me stop, ye can come forward with the shovels." The
galleyman went forward; but the moment he left the shade, his
figure caught the eyes of him who stood erect. He spoke to the
other, who, instantly starting on his feet, prepared himself to meet
the intruder. The stranger, nothing daunted, hurried on, and, in an
instant, stood before those who, by the menacing attitude they
assumed, evidently regarded him with no friendly feeling.
"It is no enemy bearing down upon you, friends," said the
galleyman, in that tone of confidence which seems neither to
suspect or purpose ill. "Tell me, is either of you the son of her who—
who lies here?"
"Why ask you?" replied the taller figure, in a deep commanding
voice.
"I will not answer till I am answered: but this I may say, be ye who
ye will, that there is not a man I would befriend sooner than
Stephen Holgrave."
"If you are a friend, I will trust you; and if not, I do not fear you,"
said Holgrave, raising the brim of a slouched hat that had shadowed
his face—"I am Stephen Holgrave."
"Then may luck attend you," answered the galleyman, grasping his
hand; "I thought it was you, and I came, not alone, for I have
helpmates yonder to—to—do, what I thought would be a good turn
for you—to bury your mother."
"It is an act of charity, stranger, to bury the dead," said father John
courteously; "and you are calling down mercy upon your soul like
that pious man of old——"
"Aye, and I have need of mercy," returned the galleyman, "more
need than he, whoever he was. But see, my mates are coming;—we
must fall to work, for the night is wearing."
"But who may you be, stranger, who thus interest yourself for the
injured?" asked the monk, "or why this disguise?"
"It is of no consequence who I am: and as to this mask, why! a man
can work as well with it as without it."
The approach of Black Jack and three of the others (the fourth had
been left with the horses) prevented any farther conversation; and,
throwing aside their cloaks, the galleyman and the three jurors
instantly commenced clearing the grave.
Holgrave drew the brim of his hat again over his face, and folding his
arms, looked silently on as the work proceeded.
"By the green wax!" said Black Jack, approaching at this instant, "as
I stood yonder, reconnoitring the ground, a man shewed his head
behind that ruined wall!"
"'Tis the fiend Calverley, or one of his imps," exclaimed Holgrave,
springing forward to the broken wall; but if any object had really
presented itself, it had, in a singular manner, disappeared—for
Holgrave, after a few minutes of anxious search, returned without
having discovered the trace of a human being.
The body of Edith had been raised during his absence, and, with the
winding-sheet wrapped around the clothes in which it had been laid
in the earth, was just placed in the galleyman's cloak when Holgrave
came up. An involuntary cry burst from the yeoman as he threw
himself upon the ground beside the corpse, and, removing the cloth,
passionately kissed the hands and the forehead.
"Stephen Holgrave," cried the monk, sternly, "where is thy fortitude?
—you have broken your word. Has thy manhood left thee?"
"She was my mother!" said the mourner, rising.
When he had retired, the chasm was hastily filled up; and then Black
Jack, the galleyman, and two other jurors, took each a corner of the
cloak, and, preceded by the monk, reciting in a low voice the prayers
for the dead, and followed by Holgrave and the remaining jurors,
leading the horses, proceeded at a quick pace to the church-yard of
Hailes Abbey.
In little more than half an hour, they arrived at the meadow in which
stood the parish church and the abbey of Hailes. The church, a
small, plain Gothic building, with a red tiled roof, stood in the centre
of a burial-ground, of dimensions adapted to the paucity of
inhabitants in the parish. A low stone wall enclosed it, and some old
beech-trees threw their shadows upon the mounds and the grave-
stones that marked where "the rude fore-fathers of the hamlet"
slept.
Father John went forward, and, pushing open a wooden gate, led
the way to the osier-girt mound and head-stone over the grave of
Holgrave's father. The body was deposited on the grass, and a space
cleared of sufficient depth to receive it.
In the mean time, Holgrave had conducted those in charge of the
horses to an old barn at a short distance, and then returned to the
church-yard; and when the deceased was lowered into the grave,
the yeoman knelt at the head, the galleyman and Harvey at each
side, and Father John, standing at the foot, pronounced, in a low but
audible voice, the prayers usual on interment. The moonbeams fell
on the church, so as to cast a far shadow upon the ground that lay
towards the abbey; the foot of the grave was within the shadow, so
that Father John's figure was little revealed; and the branches of a
tree (against whose broad trunk Black Jack leant) concealed Harvey,
and cast a trembling shadow upon that side; but the light streamed
full upon Holgrave and upon the galleyman, who was kneeling at his
right hand.
At this instant, an arrow whizzed past Holgrave, and struck fire from
the opposite wall. The yeoman sprang upon his feet; another shaft
was sped, but instead of the object for which it was intended,
pierced the hat of the foreman.
"By the green wax!" cried Oakley, as he lifted the perforated hat
from the grass, "we shall need more graves, if we stand here for
marks. Come round, and stoop close to the wall, and the trees and
grave-stones may ward off the shafts. If they will, let them come to
close quarters."
"You counsel wisely, stranger," said the monk, passing round, and
standing in the shadow of the tree on the left of Holgrave, whom he
forced to retire and crouch like the rest.
As this was accomplished, a third shaft tore the bark from the tree;
and in an instant after, Calverley, followed by some of his
myrmidons, sprung down from an aperture of the wall.
"Sacrilege!" shouted he—"sacrilege! Take them, dead or alive!"
Holgrave rushed on the steward, and the clash of steel rang through
the church-yard.
The assailants, however, were somewhat damped by a loud blast
from the foreman's horn, which was instantly echoed by one of his
men; and the tramping of horses in the direction of the gate
increased the panic. The retainers of Sudley at length retreated
more speedily than they had approached, pursued by the galleyman
and Harvey, who had burst from their concealment on perceiving
them enter.
Byles, who was of the party, but had hitherto looked on as a
spectator, (being determined to allow the steward and the yeoman
to fight it out,) now glared fiercely around in search of an adversary.
A cry from Calverley, however, drew him unwillingly to his assistance,
and he sprang to the spot; but his uplifted arm was seized by a giant
grasp, the axe wrenched from his hands, and himself hurled violently
to the earth.
A strange sensation thrilled through the heart of the excited monk—
an impulse to shed blood! The weapon of the prostrate Byles was
snatched from the earth—it waved fiercely round his head; nature
and religion warred, for an instant, in his bosom, but the latter
triumphed: the weapon was flung to a distance; and Father John,
crossing himself, disappeared among the tombs.
The combatants were as yet little hurt, for each was well skilled in
the use of his weapon; but the steward, in endeavouring to ward off
a blow that might have cleft his head, only succeeded at the
sacrifice of his right ear, which was severed by the descending
blade; and, ere he could recover this shock, Holgrave sprang within
his guard, and wrenched the sword from his hand. A brief but fierce
struggle ensued, in which Holgrave, at length, prevailed—the
steward was thrown backward to the ground, and the next moment
his enemy's hand was on his throat.
"Mer-c-c-y! mer-c-c-y! oh! mercy, Stephen Holgrave!" gasped he, as,
with a despairing effort, he attempted to unloose the death-hold.
"Yes! mercy, Stephen—mercy to the coward!" exclaimed the
galleyman; "he is not worth your vengeance."
"Mercy! he had little mercy for her," muttered Holgrave, bitterly, as
he tightened his grasp.
At this moment, the voice of the monk was heard, as he rang the
abbey bell, shouting "Murder! sacrilege! Ho! porter! murder!"
Holgrave, struck with awe, relinquished his hold, and Black Jack and
his jurors instantly fled.
"Fly, knaves!" cried the galleyman, addressing Byles and Calverley,
as he released the latter. "And now, meddling steward, if you
attempt to interfere with her who is in that holy berth yonder, or
injure the honest yeoman, her son, for this night's doings, the Lord
have mercy upon you! Here, Stephen," (walking towards Holgrave,
who had thrown himself beside the grave,) "up, and jump behind on
my horse, for the cry of sacrilege will edge their brands, and friend
or foe will have little chance. There—the abbey-gate is thrown open,
and out they come with brand and torch."
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