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Exploratory Data Analysis
with Python Cookbook

Over 50 recipes to analyze, visualize, and extract insights from

structured and unstructured data

Ayodele Oluleye

BIRMINGHAM—MUMBAI
Exploratory Data Analysis with Python Cookbook
Copyright © 2023 Packt Publishing
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted
in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case
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Every effort has been made in the preparation of this book to ensure the accuracy of the information
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for any damages caused or alleged to have been caused directly or indirectly by this book.
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To my wife and daughter, I am deeply grateful for your unwavering support throughout this journey.
Your love and encouragement were pillars of strength that constantly propelled me forward. Your
sacrifices and belief in me have been a constant source of inspiration, and I am truly blessed to have
you both by my side.

To my dad, thank you for instilling in me a solid foundation in technology right from my formative
years. You exposed me to the world of technology in my early teenage years. This has been very
instrumental in shaping my career in tech. To my mum (of blessed memory), thank you for your
unwavering belief in my abilities and constantly nudging me to be my best self.

To PwC Nigeria, Data Scientists Network (DSN) and the Young Data Professionals group (YDP),
thank you for the invaluable role you played in my growth and development in the field of data
science. Your unwavering support, resources, and opportunities have significantly contributed to my
professional growth.

Ayodele Oluleye
 Contributors

About the author

Ayodele is a certified data professional with a rich cross functional background that spans across
strategy, data management, analytics, and data science. He currently leads a team of data professionals
that spearheads data science and analytics initiatives across a leading African non-banking financial
services group. Prior to this role, he spent over 8 years at a big four consulting firm working on strategy,
data science and automation projects for clients across various industries. In that capacity, he was a
key member of the data science and automation team which developed a proprietary big data fraud
detection solution used by many Nigerian financial institutions today. To learn more about him, visit
his LinkedIn profile.
About the reviewers
Kaan Kabalak is a data scientist who especially focuses on exploratory data analysis and the implementation
of machine learning algorithms in the field of data analytics. Coming from a language tutor background,
he now uses his teaching skills to educate professionals of various fields. He gives lessons in data science
theory, data strategy, SQL, Python programming, exploratory data analysis and machine learning.
Aside from this, he helps businesses develop data strategies and build data-driven systems. He is the
author of the data science blog Witful Data where he writes about various data analysis, programming
and machine learning topics in a manner that is simple and understandable.
Sanjay Krishna is a seasoned data engineer with almost a decade of experience in the data domain
having worked in the energy and financial sector. He has significant experience developing data models
and analyses using various tools such as SQL & Python. He is also an official AWS Community Builder
and is involved in developing technical content in cloud-based data systems using AWS services and
providing his feedback on AWS products as a Community Builder. He is currently employed by one
of the largest financial asset managers in the United States as a part of their modernization effort to
move their data platform to a cloud-based solution and currently resides in Boston, Massachusetts.
 Table of Contents
Prefacexv

1
Generating Summary Statistics 1
Technical requirements 1 Identifying the standard deviation of
Analyzing the mean of a dataset 2 a dataset 8
Getting ready 2 Getting ready 9
How to do it… 2 How to do it… 9
How it works... 3 How it works... 9
There’s more... 4 There’s more... 10

Checking the median of a dataset 4 Generating the range of a dataset 10

Getting ready 4 Getting ready 10
How to do it… 4 How to do it… 10
How it works... 5 How it works... 11
There’s more... 5 There’s more... 11

Identifying the mode of a dataset 5 Identifying the percentiles of a dataset 11

Getting ready 6 Getting ready 12
How to do it… 6 How to do it… 12
How it works... 7 How it works... 12
There’s more... 7 There’s more... 13

Checking the variance of a dataset 7 Checking the quartiles of a dataset 13

Getting ready 7 Getting ready 13
How to do it… 7 How to do it… 13
How it works... 8 How it works... 14
There’s more… 8 There’s more... 14
viii Table of Contents

Analyzing the interquartile range Getting ready 14

(IQR) of a dataset 14 How to do it… 14
How it works... 15

2
Preparing Data for EDA 17
Technical requirements 17 Categorizing data 33
Grouping data 18 Getting ready 33
Getting ready 18 How to do it… 33
How to do it… 18 How it works... 35
How it works... 20 There’s more... 35
There’s more... 20 Removing duplicate data 36
See also 20
Getting ready 36
Appending data 20 How to do it… 36
Getting ready 21 How it works... 37
How to do it… 21 There’s more... 38
How it works... 23 Dropping data rows and columns 38
There’s more... 23
Getting ready 38
Concatenating data 24 How to do it… 38
Getting ready 24 How it works... 39
How to do it… 24 There’s more... 40
How it works... 26 Replacing data 40
There’s more... 27
Getting ready 40
See also 27
How to do it… 40
Merging data 27 How it works... 41
Getting ready 28 There’s more... 42
How to do it… 28 See also 42
How it works... 30 Changing a data format 42
There’s more... 30
Getting ready 42
See also 30
How to do it… 42
Sorting data 30 How it works... 44
Getting ready 31 There’s more... 44
How to do it… 31 See also 44
How it works... 32
There’s more... 33
 Table of Contents ix

Dealing with missing values 44 How it works... 46

Getting ready 45 There’s more... 46
How to do it… 45 See also 46

3
Visualizing Data in Python 47
Technical requirements 47 How it works... 60
Preparing for visualization 47 There’s more... 61
See also 61
Getting ready 48
How to do it… 48 Visualizing data in GGPLOT 61
How it works... 49 Getting ready 62
There’s more... 49 How to do it… 62
Visualizing data in Matplotlib 50 How it works... 65
There’s more... 66
Getting ready 50
See also 66
How to do it… 50
How it works... 54 Visualizing data in Bokeh 66
There’s more... 55 Getting ready 66
See also 55 How to do it… 67
Visualizing data in Seaborn 55 How it works... 72
There's more... 73
Getting ready 56
See also 73
How to do it… 56

4
Performing Univariate Analysis in Python 75
Technical requirements 75 How to do it… 80
Performing univariate analysis using How it works... 83
a histogram 76 There’s more... 84
Getting ready 76 Performing univariate analysis using
How to do it… 76 a violin plot 84
How it works... 79 Getting ready 85
Performing univariate analysis using How to do it… 85
a boxplot 79 How it works... 88
Getting ready 80
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x Table of Contents

Performing univariate analysis using How to do it… 92

a summary table 89 How it works... 94
Getting ready 89
Performing univariate analysis using
How to do it… 89
a pie chart 94
How it works... 91
Getting ready 95
There’s more... 91
How to do it… 95
Performing univariate analysis using How it works... 97
a bar chart 91
Getting ready 91

5
Performing Bivariate Analysis in Python 99
Technical requirements 100 How to do it… 108
Analyzing two variables using a How it works... 110
scatter plot 100 Analyzing two variables using
Getting ready 101 a bar chart 110
How to do it… 101 Getting ready 111
How it works... 103 How to do it… 111
There’s more... 103 How it works... 113
See also... 104 There is more... 114
Creating a crosstab/two-way table on Generating box plots for two
bivariate data 104 variables114
Getting ready 104 Getting ready 114
How to do it… 104 How to do it… 114
How it works... 105 How it works... 116
Analyzing two variables using a pivot Creating histograms on two variables 116
table106 Getting ready 117
Getting ready 106 How to do it… 117
How to do it… 106 How it works... 119
How it works... 107
There is more... 107 Analyzing two variables using a
correlation analysis 120
Generating pairplots on two variables108 Getting ready 120
Getting ready 108 How to do it… 120
How it works... 122
 Table of Contents xi

6
Performing Multivariate Analysis in Python 123
Technical requirements 124 Choosing the number of principal
Implementing Cluster Analysis on components142
multiple variables using Kmeans 124 Getting ready 142
Getting ready 124 How to do it… 142
How to do it… 125 How it works... 145
How it works... 127 Analyzing principal components 146
There is more... 128
Getting ready 146
See also... 128
How to do it… 146
Choosing the optimal number of How it works... 149
clusters in Kmeans 129 There’s more... 150
Getting ready 129 See also... 150
How to do it… 129 Implementing factor analysis on
How it works... 132 multiple variables 150
There is more... 133
Getting ready 150
See also... 133
How to do it… 151
Profiling Kmeans clusters 133 How it works... 154
Getting ready 134 There is more... 154
How to do it… 134 Determining the number of factors 154
How it works... 137
Getting ready 155
There’s more... 138
How to do it… 155
Implementing principal component How it works... 158
analysis on multiple variables 138 Analyzing the factors 159
Getting ready 139
Getting ready 159
How to do it… 139
How to do it… 159
How it works... 141
How it works... 165
There is more... 142
See also... 142

7
Analyzing Time Series Data in Python 167
Technical requirements 168 Using line and boxplots to visualize
time series data 169
xii Table of Contents

Getting ready 169 Performing smoothing – exponential

How to do it… 170 smoothing191
How it works... 172 Getting ready 192
How to do it… 192
Spotting patterns in time series 173
How it works... 196
Getting ready 173
See also... 196
How to do it… 174
How it works... 176 Performing stationarity checks on
time series data 197
Performing time series data
Getting ready 197
decomposition177
How to do it… 197
Getting ready 179
How it works... 199
How to do it… 179
See also… 200
How it works... 184
Differencing time series data 200
Performing smoothing – moving
Getting ready 200
average185
How to do it… 201
Getting ready 186
How it works... 203
How to do it… 186
Getting ready 205
How it works… 191
How to do it… 205
See also... 191
How it works... 208
See also... 209

8
Analysing Text Data in Python 211
Technical requirements 212 Analyzing part of speech 224
Preparing text data 212 Getting ready 225
Getting ready 213 How to do it… 225
How to do it… 214 How it works... 229
How it works... 217 Performing stemming and
There’s more… 218 lemmatization230
See also… 218
Getting ready 230
Dealing with stop words 218 How to do it… 231
Getting ready 219 How it works... 237
How to do it… 219 Analyzing ngrams 237
How it works... 224
Getting ready 238
There’s more… 224
How to do it… 238
 Table of Contents xiii

How it works... 242 How to do it… 252

How it works... 255
Creating word clouds 242
There’s more… 256
Getting ready 242
See also 256
How to do it… 243
How it works... 245 Performing Topic Modeling 257
Getting ready 258
Checking term frequency 246
How to do it… 258
Getting ready 247
How it works... 262
How to do it… 247
How it works... 249 Choosing an optimal number of
There’s more… 250 topics263
See also 251 Getting ready 263
How to do it… 263
Checking sentiments 251
How it works... 267
Getting ready 251

9
Dealing with Outliers and Missing Values 269
Technical requirements 270 Flooring and capping outliers 290
Identifying outliers 270 Getting ready 290
Getting ready 271 How to do it… 290
How to do it… 271 How it works... 293
How it works... 273 Removing outliers 294
Spotting univariate outliers 274 Getting ready 294
Getting ready 274 How to do it… 294
How to do it… 274 How it works... 296
How it works... 277 Replacing outliers 297
Finding bivariate outliers 278 Getting ready 297
Getting ready 278 How to do it… 297
How to do it… 279 How it works... 300
How it works... 281 Identifying missing values 301
Identifying multivariate outliers 282 Getting ready 302
Getting ready 282 How to do it… 302
How to do it… 282 How it works... 305
How it works... 288
See also 289
xiv Table of Contents

Dropping missing values 305 How to do it… 309

Getting ready 306 How it works... 311
How to do it… 307
Imputing missing values using
How it works... 308 machine learning models 312
Replacing missing values 308 Getting ready 313
Getting ready 309 How to do it… 313
How it works... 314

10
Performing Automated Exploratory Data Analysis in Python 315
Technical requirements 316 Getting ready 331
Doing Automated EDA using pandas How to do it… 331
profiling316 How it works... 335
Getting ready 317 See also 336
How to do it… 318 Performing Automated EDA using
How it works... 324 Sweetviz336
See also… 324 Getting ready 336
Performing Automated EDA using How to do it… 336
dtale325 How it works... 339
Getting ready 325 See also 340
How to do it… 325 Implementing Automated EDA
How it works... 330 using custom functions 340
See also 330 Getting ready 340
Doing Automated EDA using How to do it… 340
AutoViz330 How it works... 347
There’s more… 348

Index349

Other Books You May Enjoy 358

 Preface
In today’s data-centric world, the ability to extract meaningful insights from vast amounts of data has
become a valuable skill across industries. Exploratory Data Analysis (EDA) lies at the heart of this
process, enabling us to comprehend, visualize, and derive valuable insights from various forms of data.
This book is a comprehensive guide to EDA using the Python programming language. It provides
practical steps needed to effectively explore, analyze, and visualize structured and unstructured data.
It offers hands-on guidance and code for concepts, such as generating summary statistics, analyzing
single and multiple variables, visualizing data, analyzing text data, handling outliers, handling missing
values, and automating the EDA process. It is suited for data scientists, data analysts, researchers, or
curious learners looking to gain essential knowledge and practical steps for analyzing vast amounts
of data to uncover insights.
Python is an open source general-purpose programming language which is used widely for data
science and data analysis, given its simplicity and versatility. It offers several libraries which can be
used to clean, analyze, and visualize data. In this book, we will explore popular Python libraries (such
as Pandas, Matplotlib, and Seaborn) and provide workable code for analyzing data in Python using
these libraries.
By the end of this book, you will have gained comprehensive knowledge about EDA and mastered the
powerful set of EDA techniques and tools required for analyzing both structured and unstructured
data to derive valuable insights.

Who this book is for

Whether you are a data scientist, data analyst, researcher, or a curious learner looking to analyze
structured and unstructured data, this book will appeal to you. It aims to empower you with essential
knowledge and practical skills for analyzing and visualizing data to uncover insights.
It covers several EDA concepts and provides hands-on instructions on how these can be applied using
various Python libraries. Familiarity with basic statistical concepts and foundational knowledge of Python
programming will help you understand the content better and maximize your learning experience.

What this book covers

Chapter 1, Generating Summary Statistics, explores statistical concepts, such as measures of central
tendency and variability, which help with effectively summarizing and analyzing data. It provides practical
examples and step-by-step instructions on how to use Python libraries, such as NumPy, Pandas and
xvi Preface

SciPy to compute measures (like the mean, median, mode, standard deviation, percentiles, and other
critical summary statistics). By the end of the chapter, you will have gained the required knowledge
for generating summary statistics in Python. You will also have gained the foundational knowledge
required for understanding some of the more complex EDA techniques covered in other chapters.
Chapter 2, Preparing Data for EDA, focuses on the critical steps required to prepare data for analysis.
Real-world data rarely come in a ready-made format, hence the reason for this very crucial step in EDA.
Through practical examples, you will learn aggregation techniques such as grouping, concatenating,
appending, and merging. You will also learn data-cleaning techniques, such as handling missing
values, changing data formats, removing records, and replacing records. Lastly, you will learn how to
transform data by sorting and categorizing it.
By the end of this chapter, you will have mastered the techniques in Python required for preparing
data for EDA.
Chapter 3, Visualizing Data in Python, covers data visualization tools critical for uncovering hidden
trends and patterns in data. It focuses on popular visualization libraries in Python, such as Matplotlib,
Seaborn, GGPLOT and Bokeh, which are used to create compelling representations of data. It also
provides the required foundation for subsequent chapters in which some of the libraries will be used.
With practical examples and a step-by-step guide, you will learn how to plot charts and customize
them to present data effectively. By the end of this chapter, you will be equipped with the knowledge
and hands-on experience of Python’s visualization capabilities to uncover valuable insights.
Chapter 4, Performing Univariate Analysis in Python, focuses on essential techniques for analyzing
and visualizing a single variable of interest to gain insights into its distribution and characteristics.
Through practical examples, it delves into a wide range of visualizations such as histograms, boxplots,
bar plots, summary tables, and pie charts required to understand the underlying distribution of a
single variable and uncover hidden patterns in the variable. It also covers univariate analysis for both
categorical and numerical variables.
By the end of this chapter, you will be equipped with the knowledge and skills required to perform
comprehensive univariate analysis in Python to uncover insights.
Chapter 5, Performing Bivariate Analysis in Python, explores techniques for analyzing the relationships
between two variables of interest and uncovering meaningful insights embedded in them. It delves
into various techniques, such as correlation analysis, scatter plots, and box plots required to effectively
understand relationships, trends, and patterns that exist between two variables. It also explores the
various bivariate analysis options for different variable combinations, such as numerical-numerical,
numerical-categorical, and categorical-categorical. By the end of this chapter, you will have gained
the knowledge and hands-on experience required to perform in-depth bivariate analysis in Python
to uncover meaningful insights.
Chapter 6, Performing Multivariate Analysis in Python, builds on previous chapters and delves into some
more advanced techniques required to gain insights and identify complex patterns within multiple
variables of interest. Through practical examples, it delves into concepts, such as clustering analysis,
 Preface xvii

principal component analysis and factor analysis, which enable the understanding of interactions
among multiple variables of interest. By the end of this chapter, you will have the skills required to
apply advanced analysis techniques to uncover hidden patterns in multiple variables.
Chapter 7, Analyzing Time Series Data, offers a practical guide to analyze and visualize time series
data. It introduces time series terminologies and techniques (such as trend analysis, decomposition,
seasonality detection, differencing, and smoothing) and provides practical examples and code on
how to implement them using various libraries in Python. It also covers how to spot patterns within
time series data to uncover valuable insights. By the end of the chapter, you will be equipped with the
relevant skills required to explore, analyze, and derive insights from time series data.
Chapter 8, Analyzing Text Data, covers techniques for analyzing text data, a form of unstructured
data. It provides a comprehensive guide on how to effectively analyze and extract insights from text
data. Through practical steps, it covers key concepts and techniques for data preprocessing such as
stop-word removal, tokenization, stemming, and lemmatization. It also covers essential techniques
for text analysis such as sentiment analysis, n-gram analysis, topic modelling, and part-of-speech
tagging. At the end of this chapter, you will have the necessary skills required to process and analyze
various forms of text data to unpack valuable insights.
Chapter 9, Dealing with Outliers and Missing Values, explores the process of effectively handling outliers
and missing values within data. It highlights the importance of dealing with missing values and outliers
and provides step-by-step instructions on how to handle them using visualization techniques and
statistical methods in Python. It also delves into various strategies for handling missing values and
outliers within different scenarios. At the end of the chapter, you will have the essential knowledge of
the tools and techniques required to handle missing values and outliers in various scenarios.
Chapter 10, Performing Automated EDA, focuses on speeding up the EDA process through automation.
It explores the popular automated EDA libraries in Python, such as Pandas Profiling, Dtale, SweetViz,
and AutoViz. It also provides hands-on guidance on how to build custom functions to automate the
EDA process yourself. With step-by-step instructions and practical examples, it will empower you to
gain deep insights quickly from data and save time during the EDA process.

To get the most out of this book

Basic knowledge of Python and statistical concepts is all that is needed to get the best out of this book.
System requirements are mentioned in the following table:

Software/hardware covered in the book Operating system requirements

Python 3.6+ Windows, macOS, or Linux
512GB, 8GB RAM, i5 processor
(Preferred specs)
xviii Preface

If you are using the digital version of this book, we advise you to type the code yourself or access
the code from the book’s GitHub repository (a link is available in the next section). Doing so will
help you avoid any potential errors related to the copying and pasting of code.

Download the example code files

You can download the example code files for this book from GitHub at https://github.com/
PacktPublishing/Exploratory-Data-Analysis-with-Python-Cookbook. If
there’s an update to the code, it will be updated in the GitHub repository.
We also have other code bundles from our rich catalog of books and videos available at https://
github.com/PacktPublishing/. Check them out!

Download the color images

We also provide a PDF file that has color images of the screenshots and diagrams used in this book.
You can download it here: https://packt.link/npXws.

Conventions used
There are a number of text conventions used throughout this book.
Code in text: Indicates code words in text, database table names, folder names, filenames, file
extensions, pathnames, dummy URLs, user input, and Twitter handles. Here is an example: “Create a
histogram using the histplot method in seaborn and specify the data using the data parameter
of the method.”
A block of code is set as follows:

import numpy as np
import pandas as pd
import seaborn as sns

When we wish to draw your attention to a particular part of a code block, the relevant lines or items
are set in bold:

data.shape
(30,2)

Any command-line input or output is written as follows:

$ pip install nltk

 Preface xix

Bold: Indicates a new term, an important word, or words that you see onscreen. For instance,
words in menus or dialog boxes appear in bold. Here is an example: “Select System info from the
Administration panel.”

Tips or important notes

Appear like this.

Get in touch
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General feedback: If you have questions about any aspect of this book, email us at customercare@
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Other documents randomly have
different content
The woods! A goodly portion of the day have I spent in one of their
most secret recesses. I went with Shakspeare under my arm, but
could not read, any more than fly, so I stretched myself at full length
on a huge log, and kept a sharp look-out for anything that might
send me a waking dream. The brotherhood of trees clustered around
me, laden with leaves just bursting into full maturity, and 34
possessing that delicate and peculiar green, which lasts but a
single day, and never returns. A fitful breeze swept through them, so
that ever and anon I fancied a gushing fountain to be near, or that a
company of ladies fair were come to visit me, and that I heard the
rustle of their silken kirtles. And now my eyes rested on a tree, that
was entirely leafless, and almost without a limb. Instead of grass at
its foot, was a heap of dry leaves, and not a bush or vine grew
anywhere near it, but around its neighbours they grew in great
abundance. It seemed branded with a curse, alone, forsaken of its
own, and despised by all. Can this, thought I, be an emblem of any
human being? Strange that it should be, but it is nevertheless too
true. Only one week ago I saw a poor miserable maniac bound hand
and foot, driven from “home and all its treasures,” and carried to a
dark, damp prison-house in a neighbouring town. I can be reconciled
to the mystery of a poisonous reptile’s existence, but it is very hard
to understand for what good purpose a maniac is created. Another
object I noticed, was a little tree about five feet high, completely
covered with blossoms of a gaudy hue. At first, I tried to gather
something poetical out of this thing, but with all my 35
endeavours, I could not. It caused me a real hearty laugh as
the idea expanded, for it reminded me of a certain maiden lady of
my acquaintance, who is old, stunted, very fond of tall men and
always strutting round under a weight of jewelry. But oh! what
beautiful flowers did I notice in that shady grove, whose whispering
thrilled me with delight! Their names? I cannot tell them to you, fair
reader; they ought to have no names, any more than a cloud or a
foam-bell on the river. Some were blue, some white, some purple,
and some scarlet. There were little parties of them on every side;
and as the wind swayed their delicate stems, I could not but fancy
they were living creatures, the personified thoughts perhaps of
happy and innocent children. Occasionally, too, I noticed a sort of
straggler peeping at me from beside a hillock of moss, or from under
the branches of a fallen tree, as if surprised at my temerity in
entering its secluded haunt. Birds also were around me in that
greenwood sanctuary, singing their hymns of praise to the Father of
mercies for the return of spring. The nests of the females being
already built, they had nothing to do but be happy, anticipating the
time when they themselves should be the “dealers-out of some small
blessings” to their helpless broods. As to their mates, they were
about as independent, restless and noisy as might be 36
expected, very much as any rational man would be who was
the husband of a young and beautiful wife.

But the open fields to-day have superabounded with pictures to

please and instruct the mind. I know not where to begin to describe
them. Shall it be at the very threshold of our farm-house? Well,
then, only look at those lilac trees in the garden, actually top-heavy
with purple and white flowering pyramids. The old farmer has just
cut a number of large branches, and given them to his little
daughter to carry to her mother, who will distribute them between
the mantel-piece, the table, and the fire-place of the family sitting-
room. But what ambrosial odour is that which now salutes the
senses? It comes not from the variegated corner of the garden,
where the tulip, the violet, the hyacinth, the blue bell, and the lily of
the valley are vieing to outstrip each other in their attire; nor, from
that clover-covered lawn, besprinkled with butter-cups, strawberry
blossoms, and honey-suckles; but from the orchard, every one of
whose trees are completely covered with snow-white blossoms. And
from their numberless petals emanates the murmur of bees, as they
are busy extracting the luscious honey.

What an abundance of fruit—of apples, cherries, peaches and 37

pears, do these sweet blossoms promise! But next week there
may be a bitter frost; and this is the lesson which my heart learns.
Now that I am in the spring-time of life, my hopes, in number and
beauty, are like the blossoms of trees, and I know not but they may
even on the morrow be withered by the chilly breath of the grave.
But let us loiter farther on. The western slope of this gentle hill is
equally divided, and of two different shades of green; one is planted
with rye, and the other with wheat. The eastern slope of the hill has
lately been loosened by the plough, and is of a sombre colour, but to
my eye not less pleasing than the green. And this view is enlivened
with figures besides—for a farmer and two boys are planting corn,
the latter opening the bed with their hoes, and the former dropping
in the seed (which he carries in a bag slung at his side), and
covering it with his foot. And now, fluttering over their heads is a
roguish bob-o-link, scolding about something in their wake; at a
respectful distance, and hopping along the ground are a number of
robins; and on the nearest fence a meadow-lark and bluebird are
“holding on for a bite.” But there is no end to these rural pictures, so
I will just take my reader into this neighbouring meadow- 38
pasture, thence into the poultry-yard at home, and conclude
my present rhapsody.

Here we are, then, in the midst of various domestic animals. Yonder,

a couple of black colts are chasing each other in play, while their
venerable mother (for they are brothers, though not twins) is
standing a little way off, watching their antics, and twisting about
her ears, as she remembers the happy days of her own colthood.
Here are some half dozen hearty cows, lying down and grazing, each
one with a “pledge of affection” sporting about her. There are six or
eight oxen, eating away as fast as they can, while one, who seems
to be a sentinel, occasionally rolls up his eye to see if the farmer is
coming to renew his song of “haw! gee! gee! haw!” Under the
shadow of that old oak is a flock of sheep, with their lambs bounding
beside them, as to the “tabor’s sound;” but to me there comes no
“thought of grief” at the sight, wherein I must be suffered to
disagree with Wordsworth, to whom I have already alluded once or
twice, and whose celebrated and most wonderful Ode has been
echoing in my heart all the day long. Some of the lines in it are
appropriate to the day, the charms of which I am attempting to
make you feel, reader, and you will oblige me by reading and
inwardly digesting, the following fragments of a whole, and 39
yet really complete poems:—

“The sunshine is a glorious birth”

“The winds come to me from the fields of sleep.”

“And the babe leaps up on his mother’s arm.”

“Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own.”

“Full soon thy soul shalt have her earthly freight,

And custom lie upon thee with a weight,
Heavy as fate, and deep almost as life.”

“O joy, that in our embers

Is something that doth live,
That nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive.”

“To me, the meanest flower that blows, can give

Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.”

Strange, that a rational man, after dwelling upon such poetry, should
be willing to go into a poultry-yard. But why not? I would rather do
this willingly than be compelled, as I have been, and may be again,
to hear a man say, after reading to him Wordsworth’s great 40
Ode—“Why! of what use is such stuff? what does it prove? will
it furnish a man with bread and butter? will it make the pot boil?”
The people of the poultry-yard have been in such glee to-day, and
contributed so much to the gladness of the day, that I must pay
them a passing tribute.

In the first place, our old gobbler, with his retinue of turkey wives,
has been on the point of bursting with pride ever since sunrise. If
the Grand Sultan of Turkey (who must be the father of all turkeys)
cuts the same kind of capers in the presence of his hundred ladies,
Turkey must be a great country for lean people to “laugh and grow
fat in.” Our gobbler is a feathered personification of Jack Falstaff,
possessing his prominent trait of cowardice to perfection. I
flourished a red handkerchief in his face this morning, and, by the
way he strutted round and gobbled, you would have thought he was
going to devour you. About ten minutes after this, I threw down a
handful of corn, which was intended for his particular palate. While
he was busy picking it up, a certain cock stepped alongside and
commenced picking too: the intruder, having got in the way of the
gobbler, was suddenly pushed aside; whereupon the gentleman with
spurs chuckled and “showed fight,” but the gobbler for a 41
moment heeded him not. This the cock could not bear, so he
pounced upon his enemy, and whipped him without mercy, until the
coward and fool ran away, with his long train of affectionate wives
following behind.

The cocks, hens and chickens, which have figured in the yard to-day,
would more than number a hundred, and such cackling, crowing,
chuckling, and crying as they have made, was anything but a
“concord of sweet sounds.” But the creatures have been happy, and
it was therefore a pleasure to look at them. A young hen this
morning made her first appearance with a large brood of chickens,
yellow as gold, and this caused quite a sensation among the
feathered husbands generally. The mother, as she rambled about,
seemed to say by her pompous air, to her daughterless friends
—“ar’nt they beautiful? don’t you wish you had a few?” It was also
very funny to see with what looks of astonishment the youthful
cocks surveyed these “infant phenomenons.” As to our ducks, and
geese, and guinea hens, they have minded their business pretty well
—the two former paddling about the creek and mud-puddles, and
the latter “between meals” roaming at large through the orchard and
garden, altogether the most beautiful and rational of the feathered
tribes.

A mountaineer, who is to take this queer record to the post- 42

office, is waiting for me, and I must close,—hoping that the
country pictures I have endeavoured to sketch may have a tendency
to make my reader feel a portion of that joy, which has characterized
this delightful Spring Day.

43
 CHAPTER III.

A corn-planting Bee.

Plauterkill Clove. May.

The people who inhabit that section of country lying between the
Catskill Mountains and the Hudson River, are undoubtedly the
legitimate descendants of the far-famed Rip Van Winkle. Dutch blood
floweth in their veins, and their names, appearance, manners, are all
Dutch, and Dutch only. The majority of them are engaged in tilling
the soil, and as they seem to be satisfied with a bare competency,
the peacefulness of their lives is only equalled by their ignorance of
books, and the world at large. The height of their ambition is to
enjoy a frolic, and what civilized people understand by that term,
they designate a Bee. Not only have they their wedding and funeral
Bees, but they commemorate their agricultural labours with a Bee,
and of these, the Corn-Planting Bee, which I am about to 44
describe, is a fair specimen.

A certain old Dutchman of my acquaintance had so long neglected

the field where he intended to plant his corn, that he found it
necessary to retrieve his reputation by getting up a Bee. He
therefore immediately issued his verbal invitations, and at two
o’clock on the appointed day, about seventy of his neighbours,
including men and women, made their appearance at his dwelling,
each one of them furnished with a hoe and a small bag to carry the
seed. After supplying his guests with all they wanted in the way of
spiritual drink, my friend gave the signal, and shouldering a large
hoe started off for the field of action, closely followed by his
neighbours, who fell to work lustily. The field was large, but as the
planters were numerous, it was entirely planted at least two hours
before sunset, when the party was disbanded, with the express
understanding resting upon their minds that they should invite their
children to the dance, which was to take place in the evening at the
Bee-giver’s residence.

The house of my farmer friend having been originally built for a

tavern, it happened to contain a large ball-room, and on this
occasion it was stripped of its beds and bedding, and the walls
thereof decked from top to bottom with green branches and 45
an occasional tallow candle, and conspicuous at one end of
the hall was a refreshment establishment, well supplied with pies,
gingerbread, molasses, candy and cigars, with an abundance of
coloured alcohols.

The number of young men and women who came together on the
occasion was about one hundred, and while they were trimming
themselves for the approaching dance, the musician, a huge, long-
legged and bony Dutchman, was tuning a rusty fiddle. The thirty
minutes occupied by him in this interesting business were employed
by the male portion of the guests in “wetting their whistles.” The
dresses worn on the occasion were eminently rustic and unique.
Those of the gentlemen, for the most part, were made of a coarse
grey cloth, similar to that worn by the residents on Blackwell’s
Island, while the ladies were arrayed in white cotton, trimmed with a
narrow scarlet ribbon. Pumps being out of vogue, cow-hide boots
were worn by the former, and calf brogans by the latter.

All things being now ready, a terribly loud shriek came from the poor
little fiddle, and the clattering of heels commenced, shaking the
building to its very foundation. “On with the dance, let joy be 46
unconfined,” seemed to be the motto of all present; and from
the start, there seemed to be a strife between the male and the
female dancers, as to who should leap the highest and make the
most noise. Desperate were the efforts of the musician, as he toiled
away upon his instrument, keeping discord with his heels; and every
unusual wail of the fiddle was the forerunner of a profuse
perspiration, which came rolling off of the fiddler’s face to the floor.
And then the joyous delirium of the musician was communicated to
the dancers, and as the dance proceeded, their efforts became still
more desperate; the women wildly threw back their hair, and many
of the men took off their coats, and rolled up their shirt-sleeves for
the purpose of keeping cool. In spite of every effort, however, the
faces of the dancers became quite red with the excitement, and the
hall was filled with a kind of heated fog, in which the first “break-
down” of the evening concluded.

Then followed the refreshment scene. The men drank whisky and
smoked cigars, while the women feasted upon mince-pies, drank
small beer, and sucked molasses candy. Some of the smaller men, or
boys, who were too lazy to dance, sneaked off into an out-of-the-
way room for the purpose of pitching pennies; while a few 47
couples, who were victims to the tender passion, retired to
some cozy nook, to bask unobserved in each other’s smiles.

But now the screeching fiddle is again heard above the murmur of
talking and laughing voices, and another rush is made for the
sanded floor. Another dance is there enjoyed, differing from the one
already described only in its increased extravagance. After sawing
away for a long time, as if for dear life, the musician is politely
requested to play a new tune. Promptly does he assent to the
proposition, but having started on a fresh key, he soon falls into the
identical strain, which had kept him busy for the previous hour; so
that the philosophic listener is compelled to conclude that the fiddler
either cannot play more than one tune, or that he has a particular
passion for the monotonous and nameless one to which he so
closely clings. And thus, with many indescribable variations does the
ball continue throughout the entire night.
I did not venture to trip the “light fantastic toe” on the occasion in
question, but my enjoyment as a calm spectator was very amusing
and decidedly original. Never before had I seen a greater amount of
labour performed by men and women in the same time. I left this
interesting assembly about midnight, fully satisfied with what I had
seen and heard; but I was afterwards told that I missed more 48
than “half the fun.”

When the music was loudest, so it appears, and the frenzy of the
dance at its climax, a select party of Dutch gentlemen were suddenly
seized with an appetite for some more substantial food than had yet
been given them. They held a consultation on the important subject,
and finally agreed to ransack the garret and cellar of their host for
the purpose of satisfying their natural desires. In the former place
they found a good supply of dried beef, and in the latter, a few
loaves of bread and a jar of rich cream, upon which they regaled
themselves without favour, but with some fear. The giver of the Bee
subsequently discovered what had been done, and though
somewhat more than “three sheets in the wind” slyly sent for a pair
of constables, who soon made their appearance, and arrested the
thieving guests, who were held to bail in the sum of fifty dollars
each. I was also informed that the dance was kept up until six
o’clock in the morning, and that the appearance of my friend’s
establishment, and the condition of his guests at seven o’clock, was
ridiculous in the extreme. A small proportion of the Bee-party only
had succeeded in starting for home, so that the number who, from
excess of drinking and undue fatigue had retired to repose, 49
was not far from three score and ten. The sleeping
accommodation of the host was limited, and the consequence was,
that his guests had to shift for themselves, as they best could. The
floors of every room in the house, including the pantries, were
literally covered with men and women; some of them moaning with
a severe head-ache, some breathing audibly in a deep sleep, and
others snoring in the loudest and most approved style. By twelve
o’clock, the interesting company had stolen off to their several
homes, and the Corn-Planting Bee, among the Catskills, was at an
end.

50
 CHAPTER IV.

Lake Horicon—Sketches of its scenery—Information for anglers—

Sabbath-day Point—War memories—The Turret City—Death of a
deer—Roger’s Slide—Diamond Island—The snake-charmer—
Snake stories—Night on the Horicon.

Lyman’s Tavern. June.

If circumstances alone could make one poetical, then might you

expect from me on this occasion a paper of rare excellence and
beauty. My sketch-book is my desk, my canopy from the sunshine an
elm-tree, the carpet under my feet a rich green sprinkled with
flowers, the music in my ear of singing birds, and the prospect
before me, north, east, and south, the tranquil bosom of Lake
George, with its islands and surrounding mountains, whose waters,
directly at my side, are alive with many kinds of fish, sporting
together on a bed of sand. Yes, the far-famed Lake George is my
subject, but in what I write I shall not use that title; for I do 51
not like the idea of christening what belongs to us with the
name of an English monarch, however much his memory deserves
to be respected. Shall it be Lake St. Sacrament, then? No! for that
was given to it by the Pope and the French nation. Horicon—a
musical and appropriate word, meaning pure water, and given it by
the poor Indian—is the name which rightfully belongs to the lake
which is now my theme.

Lake Horicon is one of the few objects in nature which did not
disappoint me after reading the descriptions of travellers. I verily
believe, that in point of mere beauty, it has not its superior in the
world. Its length is thirty-four miles, and its width from two to four.
Its islands number about three hundred, and vary from ten feet to a
mile in length; a great many of them are situated in the centre of
the lake, at a place called the Narrows. It is completely surrounded
with mountains, the most prominent of which are, Black Mountain,
on the east of the Narrows, Tongue Mountain, directly opposite, and
French Mountain, at the southern extremity. The first is the most
lofty, and remarkable for its wildness, and the superb prospect
therefrom; the second is also wild and uninhabited, but distinguished
for its dens of rattlesnakes; and the latter is somewhat 52
cultivated, but memorable for having been the camping-
ground of the French during the Revolutionary war. The whole
eastern border is yet a comparative wilderness; but along the
western shore are some respectable farms, and a good coach-road
from Caldwell to Ticonderoga, which affords many admirable views
of the sky-blue lake. There are three public-houses here which I can
recommend: the Lake House, for those who are fond of company;
Lyman’s Tavern, for the hunter of scenery and lover of quiet; and
Garfield’s House, for the fisherman. A nice little steam-boat,
commanded by a gentleman, passes through the Lake every
morning and evening (excepting Sundays), and though a convenient
affair to the traveller, it is an eye-sore to the admirer of the
wilderness.

Identified with this boat is an eccentric man, named “Old Dick,” who
amuses the tourist, and collects an occasional shilling by exhibiting a
number of rattlesnakes. When, in addition to all these things, it is
remembered that Horicon is the centre of a region made classic by
the exploits of civilized and savage warfare, it can safely be
pronounced one of the most interesting portions of our country for
the summer tourist to visit. I have looked upon it from many a peak,
whence might be seen almost every rood of its shore. I have 53
sailed into every one of its bays; and, like the pearl-diver, have
repeatedly descended into its cold blue chambers; so that I have
learned to love it as a faithful and well-tried friend. Since the day of
my arrival here, I have kept a journal of my adventures; and, as a
memorial of Horicon, I will extract therefrom and embody in this
chapter the following passages.

LAKE HORICON.

Six pencil sketches have I executed upon the Lake to-day. One of
them was a view of the distant mountains, whose various outlines
were concentrated at one point, and whose colour was of that
delicate dreamy blue, created by a sunlight atmosphere, with the
sun directly in front. In the middle distance was a flock of 54
islands, with a sail boat in their midst, and in the foreground a
cluster of rocks, surmounted by a single cedar, which seemed to be
the sentinel of a fortress. Another was of the ruins of Fort George,
with a background of dark green mountains, which was made quite
desolate by a flock of sheep sleeping in one of its shady moats.
Another was of a rowing race between two rival fishermen, at the
time when they were only a dozen rods from the goal, and when
every nerve of their aged frames was strained to the utmost.
Another was of a neat log-cabin on a quiet lawn near the water, at
whose threshold a couple of ragged but beautiful children were
playing with a large dog, while from the chimney of the house
ascended the blue smoke with a thousand fantastic evolutions.
Another was of a huge pine tree, which towered conspicuously
above its kindred on the mountain side, and seemed to me an
appropriate symbol of Webster in the midst of a vast concourse of
his fellow-men. And the last was of a thunder-storm, driven away
from a mountain top by the mild radiance of a rainbow, which partly
encircled Horicon in a loving embrace.

I have been fishing to-day, and, while enduring some poor sport,
indited in my mind the following information, for the benefit of 55
my piscatorial friends. The days of trout-fishing in Lake
Horicon are nearly at an end. A few years ago it abounded in
salmon-trout, which were frequently caught weighing twenty
pounds, but their average weight at the present is not more than
one pound and a half, and they are scarce even at that. In taking
them you first have to obtain a sufficient quantity of sapling bark to
reach the bottom in sixty feet of water, to one end of which must be
fastened a stone, and to the other a stick of wood, which designates
your fishing ground, and is called a buoy. A variety of more common
fish are then caught, such as suckers, perch, and eels, which are cut
up and deposited, some half a peck at a time, in the vicinity of the
buoy. In a few days, the trout will begin to assemble, and so long as
you keep them well fed, a brace of them may be captured at any
time during the summer. But the fact is, this is only another way for
“paying too dear for the whistle.” The best angling, after all, is for
the common brook trout, which is a bolder biting fish, and better for
the table than the salmon-trout. The cause of the great decrease in
the large trout of this lake is this—in the autumn, when they have
sought the shores for the purpose of spawning, the neighbouring
barbarians have been accustomed to spear them by torch- 56
light; and if the heartless business does not soon cease, the
result will be, that in a few years they will be extinct. There are two
other kinds of trout in the lake, however, which yet afford good sport
—the silver-trout, caught in the summer, and the fall-trout. But the
black-bass, upon the whole, is now mostly valued by the fisherman.
They are in their prime in the summer months. They vary from one
to five pounds in weight; are taken by trolling and with a drop line,
and afford fine sport. Their haunts are along the rocky shores, and it
is often the case that on a still day you may see them from your
boat swimming about in herds, where the water is twenty feet deep.
They have a queer fashion when hooked, of leaping out of the water
for the purpose of getting clear, and it is seldom that a novice in the
gentle art can keep them from succeeding. But alas, their numbers
also are fast diminishing, by the same means and the same hands
that have killed the trout. My advice to those who come here
exclusively for the purpose of fishing is, to continue their journey to
the sources of the Hudson, Schroon Lake, Long Lake, and Lake
Pleasant, in whose several waters there seems to be no end to every
variety of trout, and where may be found much wild and 57
beautiful scenery. The angler of the present day will be
disappointed in Lake Horicon.

When issuing from the Narrows on your way down the Horicon, the
most attractive object, next to the mountains, is a strip of low sandy
land extending into the lake, called Sabbath Day Point. It was so
christened by Abercrombie, who encamped and spent the Sabbath
there, when on his way to Ticonderoga, where he was so sadly
defeated. I look upon it as one of the most enchanting places in the
world; but the pageant with which it is associated was not only
enchanting, and beautiful, but magnificent. Only look upon the
picture.

It is the sunset hour, and before us, far up in the upper air, and
companion of the evening star and a host of glowing clouds, rises
the majestic form of Black Mountain, enveloped in a mantle of rosy
atmosphere. The bosom of the Lake is without a ripple, and every
cliff, ravine, and island, has its counterpart in the pure waters. A
blast of martial music from drums, fifes, bagpipes, and bugle horns,
now falls upon the ear, and the immense procession comes in sight;
one thousand and thirty-five battaux, containing an army of
seventeen thousand souls, headed by the brave Abercrombie and
the red cross of England—the scarlet uniforms and glistening 58
bayonets forming a line of light against the darker back-
ground of the mountain. And behind a log in the foreground is a
crouching Indian runner, who, with the speed of a hawk, will carry
the tidings to the French nation that an army is coming, “numerous
as the leaves upon the trees.” Far from the strange scene fly the
affrighted denizens of mountain and wave—while thousands of
human hearts are beating happily at the prospect of victory, whose
bodies in a few hours will be food for the raven on the plains of
Ticonderoga.

A goodly portion of this day have I been musing upon the olden
times, while rambling about Fort George, and Fort William Henry.
Long and with peculiar interest did I linger about the spot near the
latter, where were cruelly massacred the followers of Monroe, at
which time Montcalm linked his name to the title of a heartless
Frenchman, and the name of Webb became identified with all that is
justly despised by the human heart. I profess myself to be an enemy
to wrong and outrage of every kind, and yet a lover and defender of
the Indian race; but when I picked up one after another the flinty
heads of arrows, which were mementos of an awful butchery, my
spirit revolted against the Red man, and for a moment I felt a 59
desire to condemn him. Yes, I will condemn that particular
band of murderers, but I cannot but defend the race.

Cruel and treacherous they were, I will allow, but do we forget the
treatment they ever met with from the white man? The most
righteous of battles have ever been fought for the sake of sires and
wives and children, and for what else did the poor Indian fight,
when driven from the home of his youth into an unknown
wilderness, to become there-after a by-word and a reproach among
the nations? “Indians,” said we, “we would have your lands; and if
you will not be satisfied with the gewgaws we proffer, our powder
and balls will teach you that power is but another name for right.”
And this is the principle that has guided the white man ever since in
his warfare against the aborigines of our country. I cannot believe
that we shall ever be a happy and prosperous people, until the King
of Kings shall have forgiven us for having, with a yoke of tyranny,
almost annihilated a hundred nations.

A portion of this afternoon I whiled away on a little island, which

attracted my attention by its charming variety of foliage. It is not
more than one hundred feet across at the widest part, and is 60
encircled by a yellow sand-bank, and shielded by a regiment
of variegated rocks. But what could I find there to interest me, it
may be inquired. My answer is this. That island, hidden in one of the
bays of Horicon, is an Insect city, and more populous than was
Rome in the days of her glory. There the honey-bee has his oaken
tower, the wasp and humble-bee their grassy nests, the spider his
den, the butterfly his hammock, the grasshopper his domain, the
beetle and cricket and hornet their decayed stump, and the toiling
ant her palace of sand. There they were born, there they flourish
and multiply, and there they die, symbolizing the career and destiny
of man. I was a “distinguished stranger” in that city, and I must
confess that it gratified my ambition to be welcomed with such
manifestations of regard as the inhabitants thought proper to
bestow. My approach was heralded by the song of a kingly bee; and
when I had thrown myself upon a mossy bank, multitudes of people
gathered round, and, with their eyes intently fixed upon me, stood
still, and let “expressive silence muse my praise.” To the “natives” I
was emphatically a source of astonishment; and as I wished to
gather instruction from the event, I wondered in my heart whether I
should be a happier man if my presence in a human city 61
should create a kindred excitement. At any rate, it would be a
“great excitement on a small capital.”
While quietly eating my dinner this noon in the shady recess of an
island near Black Mountain, I was startled by the yell of a pack of
hounds coming down one of its ravines. I knew that the chase was
after a deer, so I waited in breathless anxiety for his appearance.
Five minutes had hardly elapsed before I discovered a noble buck at
bay on the extreme summit of a bluff which extended into the lake.
There were five dogs yelping about him, but the “antlered monarch”
fought them like a hero. His hoof was the most dangerous weapon
he could wield, and it seemed to me that the earth actually trembled
every time that he struck at his enemies. Presently, to my great joy,
one of the hounds was killed, and another so disabled, that he
retired from the contest. But the hunters made their appearance,
and I knew that the scene would soon come to a tragic close. And
when the buck beheld them, I could not but believe that over his
face a “tablet of agonizing thoughts was traced,” for he fell upon his
knees, then made a sudden wheel, and with a frightful bound, as a
ball passed through his heart, cleared the rock and fell into the 62
lake below. The waters closed over him; and methought that
the waves of Horicon and the leaves of the forest murmured a
requiem above the grave of the wilderness king. I turned away with
a tear in my eye, and partly resolved that I would never again have
a dog for my friend, or respect the character of a hunter; but then I
looked into the crystal waters of the lake, and thought of the beam
in my own eye, and stood convicted of a kindred cruelty.

One of the most singular precipices overlooking Horicon is about five

miles from the outlet, and known as Rogers’ Slide. It is some four
hundred feet high, and at one point not a fissure or sprig can be
discerned to mar the polished surface of the rock till it reaches the
water. Once on a time, in the winter, the said Rogers was pursued by
a band of Indians to this spot, where, after throwing down his
knapsack, he carefully retraced the steps of his snow-shoes for a
short distance, and descending the hill by a circuitous route,
continued his course across the frozen lake. The Indians, on coming
to the jumping-off-place, discovered their enemy on the icy plain;
but when they saw the neglected knapsack below, and no signs of
returning footsteps where they stood, they thought the devil 63
must be in the man, and gave up the pursuit.

The most famous, and one of the most beautiful islands in this lake,
is Diamond Island, so called, from the fact that it abounds in
crystallized quartz. It is half a mile in length, but the last place in the
world which would be thought of as the scene of a battle. It is
memorable for the attack made by the Americans on the British,
who had a garrison there during the Revolution. The American
detachment was commanded by Colonel Brown, and being elated
with his recent triumphs on Lake Champlain, he resolved to attack
Diamond Island. The battle was bloody, and the British fought like
brave men, “long and well;” the Americans were defeated, and this
misfortune was followed by the sufferings of a most painful retreat
over the almost impassable mountains between the Lake and what is
now Whitehall. While wandering about the island, it was a difficult
matter for me to realize, that it had ever resounded with the roar of
cannon, the dismal wail of war, and the shout of victory. That spot is
now covered with woods, whose shadowy groves are the abode of a
thousand birds, for ever singing a song of peace or love, as if 64
to condemn the ambition and cruelty of man.

In the vicinity of French Mountain is an island celebrated as the

burial place of a rattle-snake hunter, named Belden. From all that I
can learn, he must have been a strange mortal indeed. His birth-
place and early history were alike unknown. When he first made his
appearance at this Lake, his only companions were a brotherhood of
rattle-snakes, by exhibiting which he professed to have obtained his
living; and it is said that, during the remainder of his life, he
acquired a handsome sum of money by selling the oil and gall of his
favourite reptile. And I have recently been told, that the present
market-price of a fat snake, when dead, is not less than half a dollar.
Another mode peculiar to old Belden for making money, was to
suffer himself to be bitten, at some tavern, after which he would
return to his cabin to apply the remedy, when he would come forth
again just as good as new. But he was not always to be a solemn
trifler. For a week had the old man been missing, and on a pleasant
August morning, his body was found on the island alluded to, sadly
mutilated and bloated, and it was certain that he had died actually
surrounded by rattlesnakes. His death-bed became his grave, 65
and rattlesnakes were his only watchers,—and thus endeth the
story of his life.

But this reminds me of two little adventures. The other day, as I was
seated near the edge of a sand bar, near the mouth of a brook,
sketching a group of trees and the sunset clouds beyond, I was
startled by an immense black snake, that landed at my side, and
pursued its way directly under my legs, upon which my drawing-
book was resting. Owing to my perfect silence, the creature had
probably looked upon me as a mere stump. But what was my
surprise, a few moments after, when reseated in the same place, to
find another snake, and that a large spotted adder, passing along
the same track the former had pursued. The first fright had almost
disabled me from using the pencil, but when the second came, I
gave a lusty yell, and forgetful of the fine arts, started for home on
the keen run.

At another time, when returning from a fishing excursion, in a boat,

accompanied by a couple of “greenhorns,” we discovered on the
water, near Tongue Mountain, an immense rattlesnake, with his head
turned towards us. As the oarsman in the bow of the boat struck at
him with his oar, the snake coiled round it, and the fool was in the
very act of dropping the devilish thing in my lap at the stern of 66
the boat. I had heard the creature rattle, and not knowing
what I did, as he hung suspended over me, overboard I went, and
did not look behind till I had reached the land. The consequence
was, that for one while I was perfectly disgusted even with Lake
Horicon, and resolved to leave it without delay. The snake was killed
without doing any harm, however; but such a blowing up as I gave
the man actually made his hair stand straight with fear.

One more snake story and I’ll conclude. On the north side of Black
Mountain is a cluster of some half-dozen houses, in a vale, which
spot is called the Bosom, but from what cause I do not know. The
presiding geniuses of the place are a band of girls, weighing two
hundred pounds a piece, who farm it with their fathers for a living,
but whose principal amusement is rattlesnake hunting. Their
favourite playground is the notorious cliff on Tongue Mountain,
where they go with naked feet (rowing their own boats across the
Lake), and pull out by their tails from the rocks the pretty playthings,
and, snapping them to death, they lay them away in a basket as
trophies of their skill. I was told that in one day last year they killed
the incredible number of eleven hundred. What delicious wives 67
would these Horicon ladies make! Since the Florida Indians
have been driven from their country by bloodhounds, would it not be
a good idea for Congress to secure the services of these amazons
for the purpose of exterminating the rattlesnakes upon our
mountains. This latter movement would be the most ridiculous; but
the inhumanity of the former is without a parallel.

A clear and tranquil summer night, and I am alone on the pebbly

beach of this paragon of Lakes. The countless hosts of heaven are
beaming upon me with a silent joy, and more impressive and holy
than a poet’s dream are the surrounding mountains, as they stand
reflected in the unruffled waters. Listen! what sound is that, so like
the wail of a spirit? Only a loon, the lonely night-washer of Horicon,
whose melancholy moan, as it breaks the profound stillness, carries
my fancy back to the olden Indian times, ere the white man had
crossed the ocean. All these mountains and this beautiful Lake were
then the heritage of a brave and noble-hearted people, who made
war only upon the denizens of the forest, whose lives were peaceful
as a dream, and whose manly forms, decorated with the plumes of
the eagle, the feathers of the scarlet bird, and the robe of the
bounding stag, tended but to make the scenery of the 68
wilderness beautiful as an earthly Eden. Here was the quiet
wigwam village, and there the secluded abode of the thoughtful
chief. Here, unmolested, the Indian child played with the spotted
fawn, and the “Indian lover wooed his dusky mate;” here the Indian
hunter, in the “sunset of his life,” watched, with holy awe, the sunset
in the west, and here the ancient Indian prophetess sung her
uncouth but religious chant. Gone—all, all gone—and the desolate
creature of the waves, now pealing forth another wail, seems the
only memorial that they have left behind. There—my recent
aspirations are all quelled, I can walk no farther to-night; there is
sadness in my soul, and I must seek my home. It is such a blessed
night, that it seems almost sinful that a blight should rest upon the
spirit of man; yet on mine a gloom will sometimes fall, nor can I tell
from whence the cloud that makes me wretched.

69
 CHAPTER V.

The Scaroon Country—Scaroon Lake—Pike Fishing by Torch-light—

Trout Fishing—Lyndsey’s Tavern—Paradox Lake.

Lyndsey’s Tavern. June.

Emptying into the Hudson River, about fifteen miles north of Glen’s
Falls, is quite a large stream, sometimes called the East Branch of
[1]
the Hudson, but generally known as Scaroon River. Its extreme
length is not far from fifty miles. It is a clear, cold, and rapid stream,
winds through a mountainous country, and has rather a deep
channel. The valley through which it runs is somewhat cultivated,
but the mountains, which frown upon it on either side, are covered
with dense forests. The valley of the Scaroon abounds in beautiful
lakes and brooks; and as I have explored them pretty thoroughly
during the past week, I will now record the result of my 70
observations.

The most prominent pictorial features of this region is Scaroon Lake,

through which the river of that name forms a channel. It is ten miles
in length, and averages about one in width. Excepting a little hamlet
at its head, and two or three farms at the southern extremity, it is
yet surrounded with a wilderness of mountains. The waters thereof
are deep and clear, and well supplied with fish, of which the salmon-
trout and pike are the most valuable. The trout are more abundant
here than in Lake George, but owing to the prevailing custom of
spearing them in the autumn, they are rapidly becoming extinct. I
made a desperate effort to capture one as a specimen, but without
success, though I was told that they varied in weight from ten to
fifteen pounds. My efforts, however, in taking pike were more
encouraging. But, before giving my experience, I must mention an
interesting fact in natural history. Previous to the year 1840, Scaroon
Lake was not known to contain a single pike, but during that year,
some half dozen males and females were brought from Lake
Champlain and deposited therein, since which time they have
multiplied so rapidly, as to be quite abundant, not only in Scaroon
Lake, but in all the neighbouring waters. And as they are frequently
taken, weighing some twenty pounds, the fact seems to be 71
established that this fish grows rapidly, and is not of slow
growth, as many naturalists have supposed.

But to my pike story. A number of lumbermen were going out for the
purpose of taking pike by torch-light, and I was fortunate enough to
secure a seat in one of the three flat boats which contained the
fishermen. It was a superb night, and the lake was without a ripple.
Our torches were made of “fat pine,” as it is here called; and my
polite friends taking it for granted that I was a novice in the spearing
business, they cunningly awarded to me the dullest spear in their
possession, and gave me the poorest position in the boat. I said
nothing to all this, but inwardly resolved that I would give them a
salutary lesson, if possible. I fished from nine until twelve o’clock,
and then left my friends to continue the sport. The entire number of
pike taken, as I found out in the morning, was thirteen; and, as
fortune would have it, four of this number were captured by myself,
in spite of my poor spear. I did not take the largest fish, which
weighed eighteen pounds, but the greatest number, with which
success I was fully satisfied. The effect of my good luck upon my
companions was unexpected, but gratifying to me; for there was
afterwards a strife between them, as to who should show me the
most attention in the way of piloting me about the country. 72
This little adventure taught me the importance of
understanding even the vagabond art of spearing.
The event of that night, however, which afforded me the purest
enjoyment, was the witnessing of a moonlight scene, immediately
after leaving the Lake shore, for the inn where I was staying. Before
me, in wild and solemn beauty, lay the southern portion of the
Scaroon, on whose bosom were gliding the spearmen, holding high
above their heads three huge torches, which threw a spectral glare,
not only upon the water, but upon the swarthy forms which were
watching for their prey. Just at this moment an immense cloud of
fog broke away, and directly above the summit of the opposite
mountain, the clear full moon made its appearance, and a thousand
fantastic figures, born of the fog, were pictured in the sky, and
appeared extremely brilliant under the effulgence of the ruling
planet; while the zenith of sky was of a deep blue, cloudless, but
completely spangled with stars. And what greatly added to the
magic of the scene, was the dismal scream of a loon, which came to
my ear from a remote portion of the Lake which was yet covered
with a heavy fog.

Rising from the western margin of Scaroon Lake, is a lofty 73

mountain, which was once painted by Thomas Cole, and by
him named Scaroon Mountain. There is nothing particularly imposing
about it, but it commands an uncommonly fine prospect of the
surrounding country. When I first came in sight of this mountain, it
struck me as an old acquaintance, and I reined in my horse for the
purpose of investigating its features. Before I resumed my course, I
concluded that I was standing on the very spot whence the artist
Cole had taken his original sketch of the scene, by which
circumstance I was convinced of the fidelity of his pencil.

The largest island in Scaroon Lake lies near the northern extremity,
and studs the water like an emerald on a field of blue. It was
purchased some years ago by a gentleman of New York, named
Ireland, who has built a summer residence upon it, for the
accommodation of himself and friends.
Emptying into the Scaroon river, just below the Lake, is a superb
mountain stream, known as Trout Brook. It is thirty feet wide, twelve
miles long, and comes rushing down the mountains, forming a
thousand waterfalls and pools, and filling its narrow valley with a
continual roar of music. Not only is it distinguished for the 74
quality and number of its trout, but it possesses one attraction
which will pay the tourist for the weary tramp he must undergo to
explore its remote recesses. I allude to what the people about here
call the “Stone Bridge.” At this point, the wild and dashing stream
has formed a channel directly through the solid mountains; so that
in fishing down, the angler suddenly finds himself standing upon a
pile of dry stones. The extent of this natural bridge is not more than
twenty, or perhaps thirty feet; but the wonder is, that the unseen
channel is sufficiently large to admit the passage of the largest logs,
which the lumbermen float down the stream.

I might also add, that at the foot of this bridge is one of the finest
pools imaginable. It is, perhaps, one hundred feet long; and so very
deep, that the clear water appears quite black. This is the finest spot
in the whole brook for trout; and my luck there may be described as
follows: I had basketed no less than nine half-pounders, when my fly
was suddenly seized, and my snell snapped in twain by the
fierceness of his leaps. The consequence of that defeat was, that I
resolved to capture the trout, if I had to remain there all night. I
then ransacked the mountain-side for a living bait, and with 75
the aid of my companion, succeeded in capturing a small
mouse, and just as the twilight was coming on, I tied the little fellow
to my hook, and threw him on the water. He swam out in fine style;
but when he reached the centre of the pool, a large trout leaped
completely out of his element, and in descending, seized the mouse.
The result was, that I broke my rod, but caught the trout; and
though the mouse was seriously injured, I had the pleasure of again
giving him his liberty.

The largest trout that I killed weighed nearly a pound; and though
he was the cause of my receiving a ducking, he afforded me some
sport, and gave me a new idea. When I first hooked him, I stood on
the very margin of the stream, knee deep in a bog; and just as I was
about to basket him, he gave a sudden leap, cleared himself, and fell
into the water. Quick as thought, I made an effort to rescue him; but
in doing so, lost my balance, and was playing the part of a turtle in a
tub of water. I then became poetical, and thought it “would never do
to give it up so;” and after waiting some fifteen minutes, I returned,
and tried for the lost trout again. I threw my fly some twenty feet
above the place where I had tumbled in, and recaptured the
identical trout which I had lost. I recognized him by his having 76
a torn and bleeding mouth.

This circumstance convinced me that trout, like many of the sons of

men, have short memories, and also that the individual in question
was a perfect Richelieu or General Taylor in his way, for he seemed
to know no such word as fail. As to the trout that I did not capture, I
verily believe that he must have weighed two pounds; but as he was
probably a superstitious gentleman, he thought it the better part of
valour, somewhat like Santa Anna, to treat the steel of his enemy
with contempt.

The brook of which I have been speaking, is only twenty-five miles

from Lake Horicon, and unquestionably one of the best streams for
the angler in the Scaroon Valley. The Trout Brook Pavilion, at the
mouth of it, kept by one Lockwood, is a comfortable inn; and his
right-hand man, named Kipp, is a very fine fellow, and a perfect
angler.

Speaking of the above friends, reminds me of another, a fine man,

named Lyndsey, who keeps a tavern, about ten miles north of
Scaroon Lake. His dwelling is delightfully situated in the centre of a
deep valley, and is a nice and convenient place to stop at for those
who are fond of fishing, and admire romantic scenery. His family,
including his wife, two daughters and one son, not only know 77
how to make their friends comfortable, but they seem to have
a passion for doing kind deeds.
During my stay at this place, I had the pleasure of witnessing a most
interesting game, which seems to be peculiar to this part of the
country. It was played with the common ball, and by one hundred
sturdy farmers. Previous to the time alluded to, fifty Scaroon players
had challenged an equal number of players from a neighbouring
village, named Moriah. The conditions were, that the defeated party
should pay for a dinner, to be given by my friend Lyndsey. They
commenced playing at nine o’clock, and the game was ended in
about three hours, the Scaroon party having won by about ten
counts in five hundred. The majority of the players varied from thirty
to thirty-five years of age, though some of the most expert of them
were verging upon sixty years. They played with the impetuosity of
school-boys; and there were some admirable feats performed in the
way of knocking and catching the ball. Some of the men could
number their acres by thousands, and all of them were accustomed
to severe labour, and yet they thought it absolutely necessary to
participate occasionally in this manly and fatiguing sport. The 78
dinner passed off in fine style, and was spiced by many
agricultural anecdotes; and as the sun was setting, the parties
separated in the best of spirits, and returned to their several homes.

For fear that I should forget my duty, I would now introduce to my

reader, a sheet of water embosomed among these mountains, which
glories in the name of Lake Paradox. How it came by that queer title,
I was not able to learn; but this I know, that it is one of the most
beautiful lakes I have ever seen. It is five miles long, and
surrounded with uncultivated mountains, excepting at its foot, where
opens a beautiful plain, highly cultivated, and dotted with a variety
of rude but exceedingly comfortable farm-houses. The shores of
Lake Paradox are rocky, the water deep and clear, abounding in fish,
and the lines of the mountains are picturesque to an uncommon
degree.

But it is time that I should turn from particulars to a general

description of the Scaroon Country. Though this is an agricultural
region, the two principal articles of export are lumber and iron. Of
the former, the principal varieties are pine, hemlock, and spruce; and
the two establishments for the manufacture of iron are 79
abundantly supplied with ore from the surrounding mountains.
Potatoes of the finest quality flourish here, also wheat and corn. The
people are mostly Americans, intelligent, virtuous and industrious,
and are as comfortable and happy as any in the State.

80
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