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Data Structures & Algorithms in Python
 Data Structures & Algorithms in
Python

John Canning
Alan Broder
Robert Lafore

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ISBN-13: 978-0-13-485568-4
ISBN-10: 0-13-485568-X
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Director, ITP Product Management
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Pearson’s Commitment to
Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion
Pearson is dedicated to creating bias-free content that reflects the diversity
of all learners. We embrace the many dimensions of diversity, including but
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 To my mother, who gave me a thirst for knowledge, to my father, who
taught me the joys of engineering, and to June, who made it possible to
pursue both.

John Canning

For my father Sol Broder, a computer science pioneer, who inspired me to

follow in his footsteps.

To my mother Marilyn Broder, for showing me the satisfaction of teaching

others.

To Fran, for making my life complete.

Alan Broder
 Contents
1. Overview

2. Arrays

3. Simple Sorting

4. Stacks and Queues

5. Linked Lists

6. Recursion

7. Advanced Sorting

8. Binary Trees

9. 2-3-4 Trees and External Storage

10. AVL and Red-Black Trees

11. Hash Tables

12. Spatial Data Structures

13. Heaps

14. Graphs

15. Weighted Graphs

16. What to Use and Why

Appendix A. Running the Visualizations

Appendix B. Further Reading

Appendix C. Answers to Questions

 Table of Contents
1. Overview
What Are Data Structures and Algorithms?
Overview of Data Structures
Overview of Algorithms
Some Definitions
Programming in Python
Object-Oriented Programming
Summary
Questions
Experiments

2. Arrays
The Array Visualization Tool
Using Python Lists to Implement the Array Class
The Ordered Array Visualization Tool
Python Code for an Ordered Array Class
Logarithms
Storing Objects
Big O Notation
Why Not Use Arrays for Everything?
Summary
Questions
Experiments
Programming Projects

3. Simple Sorting
How Would You Do It?
Bubble Sort
Selection Sort
nsertion Sort
Comparing the Simple Sorts
Summary
Questions
Experiments
Programming Projects

4. Stacks and Queues

Different Structures for Different Use Cases
Stacks
Queues
Priority Queues
Parsing Arithmetic Expressions
Summary
Questions
Experiments
Programming Projects

5. Linked Lists
Links
The Linked List Visualization Tool
A Simple Linked List
Linked List Efficiency
Abstract Data Types and Objects
Ordered Lists
Doubly Linked Lists
Circular Lists
terators
Summary
Questions
Experiments
Programming Projects
6. Recursion
Triangular Numbers
Factorials
Anagrams
A Recursive Binary Search
The Tower of Hanoi
Sorting with mergesort
Eliminating Recursion
Some Interesting Recursive Applications
Summary
Questions
Experiments
Programming Projects

7. Advanced Sorting
Shellsort
Partitioning
Quicksort
Degenerates to O(N2) Performance
Radix Sort
Timsort
Summary
Questions
Experiments
Programming Projects

8. Binary Trees
Why Use Binary Trees?
Tree Terminology
An Analogy
How Do Binary Search Trees Work?
Finding a Node
nserting a Node
Traversing the Tree
Finding Minimum and Maximum Key Values
Deleting a Node
The Efficiency of Binary Search Trees
Trees Represented as Arrays
Printing Trees
Duplicate Keys
The BinarySearchTreeTester.py Program
The Huffman Code
Summary
Questions
Experiments
Programming Projects

9. 2-3-4 Trees and External Storage

ntroduction to 2-3-4 Trees
The Tree234 Visualization Tool
Python Code for a 2-3-4 Tree
Efficiency of 2-3-4 Trees
-3 Trees
External Storage
Summary
Questions
Experiments
Programming Projects

10. AVL and Red-Black Trees

Our Approach to the Discussion
Balanced and Unbalanced Trees
AVL Trees
The Efficiency of AVL Trees
Red-Black Trees
Using the Red-Black Tree Visualization Tool
Experimenting with the Visualization Tool
Rotations in Red-Black Trees
 nserting a New Node
Deletion
The Efficiency of Red-Black Trees
-3-4 Trees and Red-Black Trees
Red-Black Tree Implementation
Summary
Questions
Experiments
Programming Projects

11. Hash Tables

ntroduction to Hashing
Open Addressing
Separate Chaining
Hash Functions
Hashing Efficiency
Hashing and External Storage
Summary
Questions
Experiments
Programming Projects

12. Spatial Data Structures

Spatial Data
Computing Distances Between Points
Circles and Bounding Boxes
Searching Spatial Data
Lists of Points
Grids
Quadtrees
Theoretical Performance and Optimizations
Practical Considerations
Further Extensions
Summary
Questions
Experiments
Programming Projects

13. Heaps
ntroduction to Heaps
The Heap Visualization Tool
Python Code for Heaps
A Tree-Based Heap
Heapsort
Order Statistics
Summary
Questions
Experiments
Programming Projects

14. Graphs
ntroduction to Graphs
Traversal and Search
Minimum Spanning Trees
Topological Sorting
Connectivity in Directed Graphs
Summary
Questions
Experiments
Programming Projects

15. Weighted Graphs

Minimum Spanning Tree with Weighted Graphs
The Shortest-Path Problem
The All-Pairs Shortest-Path Problem
Efficiency
ntractable Problems
Summary
Questions
Experiments
Programming Projects

16. What to Use and Why

Analyzing the Problem
Foundational Data Structures
Special-Ordering Data Structures
Sorting
Specialty Data Structures
External Storage
Onward

Appendix A. Running the Visualizations

For Developers: Running and Changing the Visualizations
For Managers: Downloading and Running the Visualizations
For Others: Viewing the Visualizations on the Internet
Using the Visualizations

Appendix B. Further Reading

Data Structures and Algorithms
Object-Oriented Programming Languages
Object-Oriented Design (OOD) and Software Engineering

Appendix C. Answers to Questions

Chapter 1, “Overview”
Chapter 2, “Arrays”
Chapter 3, “Simple Sorting”
Chapter 4, “Stacks and Queues”
Chapter 5, “Linked Lists”
Chapter 6, “Recursion”
Chapter 7, “Advanced Sorting”
Chapter 8, “Binary Trees”
Chapter 9, “2-3-4 Trees and External Storage”
Chapter 10, “AVL and Red-Black Trees”
Chapter 11, “Hash Tables”
Chapter 12, “Spatial Data Structures”
Chapter 13, “Heaps”
Chapter 14, “Graphs”
Chapter 15, “Weighted Graphs”
Register your copy of Data Structures & Algorithms in Python at
informit.com for convenient access to downloads, updates, and corrections
as they become available. To start the registration process, go to
informit.com/register and log in or create an account. Enter the product
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Acknowledgments
From John Canning and Alan Broder
Robert Lafore’s Java-based version of this book has been a mainstay in
Data Structures courses and professionals’ reference shelves around the
world for many years. When Alan’s Data Structures course at Stern College
for Women of Yeshiva University moved on to Python, the inability to use
Lafore’s book in the course was a real loss. We’re thus especially happy to
bring this new and revised edition to the world of Python programmers and
students.
We’d like to thank the many students at Stern who contributed to this book
either directly or indirectly over the past several years. Initial Python
versions of Lafore’s Java implementations were central to Alan’s Python-
based courses, and Stern student feedback helped improve the code’s
clarity, enhanced its performance, and sometimes even identified and fixed
bugs!
For their valuable feedback and recommendations on early drafts of this
new edition, we are grateful to many students in Alan’s Data Structures
courses, including Estee Brooks, Adina Bruce, Julia Chase, Hanna Fischer,
Limor Kohanim, Elisheva Kohn, Shira Orlian, Shira Pahmer, Jennie Peled,
Alexandra Roffe, Avigail Royzenberg, Batia Segal, Penina Waghalter, and
Esther Werblowsky. Our apologies if we’ve omitted anyone’s name.
An open-source package of data structure visualizations is available to
enhance your study of this book, and Stern students played an active role in
the development of the visualization software. John and Alan extend many
thanks to the Stern student pioneers and leaders of this project, including
Ilana Radinsky, Elana Apfelbaum, Ayliana Teitelbaum, and Lily Polonetsky,
as well as the following past and present Stern student contributors: Zoe
Abboudi, Ayelet Aharon, Lara Amar, Natania Birnbaum, Adina Bruce,
Chani Dubin, Sarah Engel, Sarah Graff, Avigayil Helman, Michal
Kaufman, Sarina Kofman, Rachel Leiser, Talia Leitner, Shani Lewis, Rina
Melincoff, Atara Neugroschl, Shira Pahmer, Miriam Rabinovich, Etta Rapp,
Shira Sassoon, Mazal Schoenwald, Shira Schneider, Shira Smith, Riva
Tropp, Alexandra Volchek, and Esther Werblowsky. Our apologies if we
have left anyone off this list.
Many thanks go to Professor David Matuszek of the University of
Pennsylvania for his early contributions of ideas and PowerPoint slides
when Alan first started teaching Data Structures at Stern. Many of the slides
available in the Instructors Resources section have their origin in his clear
and well-designed slides. Also, we are grateful to Professor Marian Gidea
of the Department of Mathematics of Yeshiva University for his insights
into spherical trigonometry.
Finally, we owe a great debt to the talented editors at Pearson who made
this book a reality: Mark Taber, Kim Spenceley, Mandie Frank, and Chris
Zahn. Without their many talents and patient help, this project would just be
an odd collection of text files, drawings, and source code.
From Robert Lafore for the Java-based versions of the book

Acknowledgments to the First Edition

My gratitude for the following people (and many others) cannot be fully
expressed in this short acknowledgment. As always, Mitch Waite had the
Java thing figured out before anyone else. He also let me bounce the applets
off him until they did the job, and extracted the overall form of the project
from a miasma of speculation. My editor, Kurt Stephan, found great
reviewers, made sure everyone was on the same page, kept the ball rolling,
and gently but firmly ensured that I did what I was supposed to do. Harry
Henderson provided a skilled appraisal of the first draft, along with many
valuable suggestions. Richard S. Wright, Jr., as technical editor, corrected
numerous problems with his keen eye for detail. Jaime Niño, Ph.D., of the
University of New Orleans, attempted to save me from myself and
occasionally succeeded, but should bear no responsibility for my approach
or coding details. Susan Walton has been a staunch and much-appreciated
supporter in helping to convey the essence of the project to the
nontechnical. Carmela Carvajal was invaluable in extending our contacts
with the academic world. Dan Scherf not only put the CD-ROM together,
but was tireless in keeping me up to date on rapidly evolving software
changes. Finally, Cecile Kaufman ably shepherded the book through its
transition from the editing to the production process.

Acknowledgments to the Second Edition

My thanks to the following people at Sams Publishing for their competence,
effort, and patience in the development of this second edition. Acquisitions
Editor Carol Ackerman and Development Editor Songlin Qiu ably guided
this edition through the complex production process. Project Editor Matt
Purcell corrected a semi-infinite number of grammatical errors and made
sure everything made sense. Tech Editor Mike Kopak reviewed the
programs and saved me from several problems. Last but not least, Dan
Scherf, an old friend from a previous era, provides skilled management of
my code and applets on the Sams website.
About the Author
Dr. John Canning is an engineer, computer scientist, and researcher. He
earned an S.B. degree in electrical engineering from the Massachusetts
Institute of Technology and a Ph.D. in Computer Science from the
University of Maryland at College Park. His varied professions include
being a professor of computer science, a researcher and software engineer
in industry, and a company vice president. He now is president of
Shakumant Software.
Alan Broder is clinical professor and chair of the Department of Computer
Science at Stern College for Women of Yeshiva University in New York
City. He teaches introductory and advanced courses in Python
programming, data structures, and data science. Before joining Stern
College, he was a software engineer, designing and building large-scale
data analysis systems. He founded and led White Oak Technologies, Inc. as
its CEO, and later served as the chairman and fellow of its successor
company, Novetta, in Fairfax, Virginia.
Introduction
What’s in this book? This book is designed to be a practical introduction to
data structures and algorithms for students who have just begun to write
computer programs. This introduction will tell you more about the book,
how it is organized, what experience we expect readers will have before
starting the book, and what knowledge you will get by reading it and doing
the exercises.

Who This Book Is For

Data structures and algorithms are the core of computer science. If you’ve
ever wanted to understand what computers can do, how they do it, and what
they can’t do, then you need a deep understanding of both (it’s probably
better to say “what computers have difficulty doing” instead of what they
can’t do). This book may be used as a text in a data structures and/or
algorithms course, frequently taught in the second year of a university
computer science curriculum. The text, however, is also designed for
professional programmers, for high school students, and for anyone else
who needs to take the next step up from merely knowing a programming
language. Because it’s easy to understand, it is also appropriate as a
supplemental text to a more formal course. It is loaded with examples,
exercises, and supplemental materials, so it can be used for self-study
outside of a classroom setting.
Our approach in writing this book is to make it easy for readers to
understand how data structures operate and how to apply them in practice.
That’s different from some other texts that emphasize the mathematical
theory, or how those structures are implemented in a particular language or
software library. We’ve selected examples with real-world applications and
avoid using math-only or obscure examples. We use figures and
visualization programs to help communicate key ideas. We still cover the
complexity of the algorithms and the math needed to show how complexity
impacts performance.

What You Need to Know Before You Read This

Book
The prerequisites for using this book are: knowledge of some programming
language and some mathematics. Although the sample code is written in
Python, you don’t need to know Python to follow what’s happening. Python
is not hard to understand, if you’ve done some procedural and/or object-
oriented programming. We’ve kept the syntax in the examples as general as
possible,
More specifically, we use Python version 3 syntax. This version differs
somewhat from Python 2, but not greatly. Python is a rich language with
many built-in data types and libraries that extend its capabilities. Our
examples, however, use the more basic constructs for two reasons: it makes
them easier to understand for programmers familiar with other languages,
and it illustrates the details of the data structures more explicitly. In later
chapters, we do make use of some Python features not found in other
languages such as generators and list comprehensions. We explain what
these are and how they benefit the programmer.
Of course, it will help if you’re already familiar with Python (version 2 or
3). Perhaps you’ve used some of Python’s many data structures and are
curious about how they are implemented. We review Python syntax in
Chapter 1, “Overview,” for those who need an introduction or refresher. If
you’ve programmed in languages like Java, C++, C#, JavaScript, or Perl,
many of the constructs should be familiar. If you’ve only programmed
using functional or domain-specific languages, you may need to spend more
time becoming familiar with basic elements of Python. Beyond this text,
there are many resources available for novice Python programmers,
including many tutorials on the Internet.
Besides a programming language, what should every programmer know? A
good knowledge of math from arithmetic through algebra is essential.
Computer programming is symbol manipulation. Just like algebra, there are
ways of transforming expressions to rearrange terms, put them in different
Other documents randomly have
different content
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Graham's
Magazine, Vol. XXX, No. 1, January 1847
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United
States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you
are not located in the United States, you will have to check the
laws of the country where you are located before using this
eBook.

Title: Graham's Magazine, Vol. XXX, No. 1, January 1847

Author: Various

Editor: George R. Graham

Release date: February 9, 2018 [eBook #56531]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Mardi Desjardins & the online Distributed

Proofreaders Canada team at
http://www.pgdpcanada.net from
page images generously made available by the
Internet
Archive (https://archive.org)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRAHAM'S

MAGAZINE, VOL. XXX, NO. 1, JANUARY 1847 ***
 GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.
1847.
Engraved by W.E. Tucker, Esq.

GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.
Vol. XXX. January, 1847. No. 1.

Table of Contents
Fiction, Literature and Articles

The Oath of Marion. A Story of the Revolution.

The Night Watch
Sense and Sympathy
One of the “Upper Ten Thousand,” and One of the
People
Musa; or The Pilgrim of Truth
Three Eras of Destiny in the Life of the Painter Angelica
Kauffmann
Sly Love
Game-Birds of America.—No. III.
The Islets of the Gulf
Review of New Books

Poetry and Fashion

Miriam
To the Husband
“Oh Mother of a Mighty Race.”
Caius Marius
Love
Solitude
The Past
Hawking
Le Follet

Transcriber’s Notes can be found at the end of this eBook.

GRAHAM’S

AMERICAN MONTHLY

MAGAZINE
Of Literature and Art,

EMBELLISHED WITH
MEZZOTINT AND STEEL ENGRAVINGS, MUSIC, ETC.

WILLIAM C. BRYANT, J. FENIMORE COOPER, RICHARD H. DANA,

JAMES K. PAULDING,
HENRY W. LONGFELLOW, CHARLES F. HOFFMAN, JOSEPH C. NEAL,
J. R. LOWELL.

MRS. LYDIA H. SIGOURNEY, MISS C. M. SEDGWICK, MRS. FRANCES

S. OSGOOD,
MRS. EMMA C. EMBURY, MRS. ANN S. STEPHENS, MRS. AMELIA B.
WELBY,
MRS. A. M. F. ANNAN, ETC.
PRINCIPAL CONTRIBUTORS.

GEORGE R. GRAHAM, EDITOR.

VOLUME XXX.

PHILADELPHIA:
GEORGE R. GRAHAM & CO. 129 CHESTNUT STREET.

......
1847.
 CONTENTS

OF THE

THIRTIETH VOLUME.

JANUARY, 1847, TO JUNE, 1847.

Alexandre Dumas’ Hamlet. By F. J. Grund, 142
Abroad and at Home. By F. E. F. 250
A Coquette Conquered. By J. S. Wallace, 254
A Dream. By Fanny Forester, 314
A Chapter on Eating. By Francis J. Grund, 332
“Boots;” or the Misfortunes of Peter Faber. By Joseph 325
C. Neal,
Frank Beverly. By Mary Spencer Pease, 296
Game-Birds of America. No. III. 47
Glimpses of a Soul. By Frances S. Osgood, 90
Game-Birds of America. No. IV. 118
Game-Birds of America. No. V. 162
Game Birds of America. No. VI. 320
Law and Love. Or Gaining a Case. By Ichabod Jones, 153
Life in New York. By Frances S. Osgood, 177
Musa; Or the Pilgrim of Truth. By James K. Paulding, 28
My Aunt Fabbins’s Old Garret. By C. P. Cranch, 157
Mrs. Bell’s Ball. By L. L. 214
Mr. Kerr Mudgeon. Or “You Wont, Wont You?” By 246
Joseph C. Neal,
Margaret’s Well. A Tale of the Great Civil War. By 282
Henry William Herbert,
Old Maids. Or Kate Wilson’s Morning Visit. By Enna 193
Duval,
One of the “Upper Ten Thousand,” and One of the 21
People. By Mrs. J. C. Campbell,
Sense and Sympathy. By F. E. F. 13
Sly Love. Or Cousin Frank. By Mrs. Caroline H. 38
Butler,
Starting Wrong. By F. E. F. 133
Singleton Snippe. Who Married for a Living. By 165
Joseph C. Neal,
Spectral and Supernatural Appearances. By R. 361
Balmanno,
The Oath of Marion. A Story of the Revolution. By 1, 92, 169
Charles J. Peterson,
The Night Watch. A Tale. 10
Three Eras of Destiny in the Life of the Painter 33
Angelica Kauffmann. By Miss H. B. Macdonald,
The Islets of the Gulf. Or Rose Budd. By J. Fenimore
49, 121, 181,
Cooper, 217, 301,
349
Tribulation Trepid. By Joseph C. Neal, 85
The Executioner. By A New Contributor, 101
The Young Painter. A Tale. By Mrs. Jane L. Swift, 111
Thomas Carlyle and His Works. By Henry D. Thoreau, 145, 238
The Fields of Stillwater and Saratoga. By N. C. 205
Brooks, A. M.,
The Loyalist’s Daughter. A Tale of the American 265, 337
Revolution. By P. Hamilton Myers,
The Irish Match-Maker. A Story of Clare. By J. 274
Gerachty M’Teague,
The Strawberry-Woman. By T. S. Arthur, 345
The Musician. By Henry Cood Watson, 372

POETRY.
Ægeus. By Wm. H. C. Hosmer, 100
A Prayer. By J. B. 161
Autumn. By Jesse E. Dow, 229
April. 245
Are They Not All Ministering Spirits. By S. Dryden 319
Phelps,
A Prayer. By Mrs. C. E. Da Ponte, 336
Caius Marius. By Mrs. E. J. Eames, 20
Fanny. By Mrs. Mary Sumner, 179
Fanny’s First Smile. By Frances S. Osgood, 262
Hawking. By E. M. Sidney, 81
Heart Struggles. By Mrs. J. C. Campbell, 176
Love. By J. Bayard Taylor, 27
Lady Jane Grey. By Mrs. E. J. Eames, 110
Lines. By L. J. Cist, 180
Love Unrequited. By Alice G. Lee, 228
Lines to a Jews-Harp. By L. B. M., 262
Lines on Visiting Broad Street Hotel. By W. H. C. 344
Hosmer,
Miriam. By Kate Dashwood, 9
Midnight Masses. By Arthur Allyn, 132
Morning Invitation. By The Private Scholar, 336
Night. By Alice Grey, 292
“Oh Mother of a Mighty Race.” By Wm. C. Bryant, 20
“Oh! that a Little Cot were Mine!” By Robert F. 120
Greely,
Pittsburgh. By E. M. Sidney, 249
Picture of Tasso. By Mrs. E. J. Eames, 371

Solitude. By Elizabeth Oakes Smith, 27

Sonnets on Receiving a Crown of Ivy from John 117
Keats. By Leigh Hunt,
Song. By Wm. C. Bryant, 152
Stanzas. By Thomas Fitzgerald, 237
Sonnet. 279
Settlement of the Genesee. By William H. C. Hosmer, 293
Sea-Side Musings. By Adaliza Cutter, 313
Sonnet from Petrarch, on the Death of Laura. 331
Translated by Alice Grey,
To the Husband. By Ella, 12
The Past. By E. J. E., 37
The Maid of Linden Lane. By T. Buchanan Read, 99
The Gleaner. By E. M. Sidney, 143
The Midshipman’s Farewell. By Mrs. Cornelia Da 152
Ponte,
The Love Dial. By G. W. Patton, 192
The Brickmaker. By T. Buchanan Read, 200
To Mrs. A. T. By Dr. Jno. C. M’Cabe, 201
The Oriole’s Return. By Miss C. Mitchell, 213
The Skater’s Song. By H. B. T. 216
The Portrait. By Kate Dashwood, 237
The Statue in the Snow. By J. B. Taylor, 253
The Stolen Child. By Thomas Buchanan Read, 280
To Mrs. P——, of Chestnut Street. 313
The Idiot Boy. By E. P. 330
The Soul’s Search. By T. Buchanan Read, 348
To Lizzie. By Mrs. M. N. M’Donald, 348
To Ianthe. By Geo. W. Hobson, 360
Youthful Love. By Alice G. Lee, 331
REVIEWS.
History of the Thirty Years’ War. By Rev. A. J. 82
Morrison,
The History of Civilization from the Fall of the 82
Roman Empire to the French Revolution. By F.
Guizot. Translated by Wm. Hazlitt,
Stories from the Italian Poets. By Leigh Hunt, 82
The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore, 83
The French Revolution. By Thomas Carlyle, 83
The Life and Correspondence of John Foster. Edited 83
by J. E. Ryland,
The New Timon. A Romance of London, 83
Memoirs of the Life of Addison. By Miss Aiken, 83
Christine, and Other Poems. By T. B. Read, 144
Dealings with the Firm of Domby & Son. By Charles 144
Dickens,
Lives of Donne, Wotton, Hooker, Herbert and 144
Sanders. By Izaak Walton,
Poems. By Ralph Waldo Emerson, 202
The Modern Standard Drama. Edited by Epes 202
Sargent,
The Poems of Thomas Campbell, 203
Views A-Foot: or Europe Seen with Knapsack and 204
Staff. By J. Bayard Taylor,
Alderbrook. By Miss Emily Chubbuck, 204
The Prose Writers of America. By Rufus Wilmot 263
Griswold,
Songs of the Sea, and other Poems. By Epes 263
Sargent,
The Battle of Life. By Charles Dickens, 264
The Countess of Rudolstadt. By George Sand, 264
Cyclopedia of English Literature. Edited by Robert 264
Chambers,
Travels in Peru. By Dr. J. J. Von Tschudi, 264
Ballads and other Poems. By Mary Howitt, 264
The Dog. By William Youatt, 264
The Life of Napoleon Bonaparte. By William Hazlitt, 322
American Comedies. By James K. Paulding and 322
William Irving Paulding,
History of the Roman Republic. By J. Michelet. 322
Translated by Wm. Hazlitt,
Spaniards and their Country. By R. Ford, 323
Hyperion. By H. W. Longfellow, 323
Froissart Ballads. By P. Pendleton Cook, 323
Past and Present. By Thomas Carlyle, 379
The Constitutional History of England from the 379
Accession of Henry VII. to the Death of George
II. By Henry Hallam,

MUSIC.
I’ve Been upon the Briny Deep. A New Song. 140
Composed by Charles E. Cathrall,

General Taylor’s Gallop. Composed and respectfully 260

dedicated to the Ladies of Miss Carpenter’s
Dancing Assembly. By A. J. R. Conner

ENGRAVINGS.
The Departure, engraved by J. Sartain, Esq.
Title Page for 1847, designed and engraved by E.
Tucker, Esq.
Paris Fashions, from Le Follet,
Josh Educating a Pig.
The Gleaner, engraved by Rawdon, Wright & Hatch.
Herds of Bisons and Elks, engraved by Rawdon,
Wright & Hatch.
Paris Fashions, from Le Follet.
Saukie and Fox Indians, engraved by Rawdon,
Wright & Hatch.
Falls of the Towalaga, engraved by Smillie.
Paris Fashions, from Le Follet.
Saratoga and Stillwater Battle-Ground, engraved by
Smillie.
Pittsburg, engraved by A. W. Graham.
Paris Fashions, from Le Follet.
Mandan Women, engraved by Rawdon, Wright &
Hatch.
Lover’s Leap, engraved by Smillie.
Colored Flower, executed by E. Quarré.
The Home-Bird, engraved by A. L. Dick.
Paris Fashions, from Le Follet.

Transcriber’s Notes can be found at the end of this eBook.

PAINTED BY HORACE VERNET. ENGRAVED BY JOHN SARTAIN.

DEPARTING FOR THE CHASE.

Engraved expressly for Graham’s Magazine.

 GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.

Vol. XXX. PHILADELPHIA, JANUARY, 1847.

No. 1.

THE OATH OF MARION.

A STORY OF THE REVOLUTION.

———
BY CHARLES J. PETERSON.
———

[PRIZE STORY—for which the Premium of $200 was awarded by the

Committee.]
 CHAPTER I.
Every man knows best how to buckle his own belt.
Falstaff.

“Did you get the pass, Macdonald?” said a young man, looking
up, as his servant entered the room of a lodging-house in
Charleston, in the latter part of the year 1780.
“Yes, sir, and the baggage and horses are ready,” was the reply of
a stalwart youth, whose dress betokened a condition removed from
that of an ordinary menial, and partaking rather of that of a familiar,
though humble companion. “I think we can give them the slip, sir—
Lord! how I wish for a crack at these fellows! and once with Marion,
we’ll not long want an opportunity.”
“Be in waiting for me at midnight, then,” said the first speaker;
and, as Macdonald retired, he threw himself back again in his chair,
and fixing his eyes on the floor, resigned himself to the abstraction
out of which he had been roused.
Howard Preston, the hero of our story, had just returned from
Europe, where he had been fulfilling the injunctions of his father’s
will, by a course of study and travel until his twenty-fourth year. The
first great sorrow of his life had been his parting, at sixteen, with the
only child of his guardian, Kate Mowbray, then a lovely little girl, who
for years had been his pet and playmate. Many were the tears she
also shed at the separation, and faithfully did she promise not to
forget her boy lover. Such childish preferences usually end with
youth; but it was not so in the present instance. With every letter
from abroad came a gift for Kate, which she requited with some
trifle worked by her own hands. But as years elapsed, and Kate
approached womanhood, these presents were no longer returned,
and Preston, piqued at what he thought neglect, gradually came to
confine himself, in his letters home, to a cold inquiry after her
health, instead of devoting, as heretofore, two-thirds of the epistle
to her. Yet he never thought of America without also thinking of
Kate; and when he landed at Charleston, a month before our tale
begins, he was wondering into what kind of a woman she had grown
up.
Still his old feeling of pique was uppermost when shown into her
father’s magnificent parlor; and this, combined with his
astonishment at seeing a graceful and high bred woman announced
as his old playmate, lent an air of coldness and embarrassment to
his greetings. Whether it was this or some other cause, Kate, who
was advancing eagerly, suddenly checked herself, colored, and put
on all her dignity. The interview, so inauspiciously begun, was short
and formal, and to Preston, at least, unsatisfactory. He had
expected, in spite of their tacit misunderstanding, that Kate would
meet him as rapturously as of old, forgetting that the child had now
become a woman. He overlooked, also, the effect his own restraint
might have produced. Thus he returned to his lodgings, dissatisfied
and angry, half disposed to dislike, yet half compelled to admire, the
beautiful and dazzling creature from whom he had just parted. The
truth was, Preston, though hitherto ignorant of it, had loved his old
playmate from boyhood. This had made him feel her neglect so
acutely, and this had led him secretly to hope that her welcome on
his return would heal the past. No wonder he went home angry, yet
quite as much in love as ever!
Preston and Kate often met after this, but they seemed destined
to misunderstand each other. Kate was really ignorant of the
mischief she had done. She had come down to meet him with a
heart full of the memories of other days, and, if truth must be told, a
little nervous and anxious how he, of whom she had so often
thought in secret, would receive her. His proud demeanor had chilled
her. Nor on subsequent occasions were their interviews more
satisfactory. Indeed Kate was puzzled and vexed at Preston’s
manner. No one could, at times, be more interesting; yet no one was
so often haughty and disagreeable. Kate sighed to think how
changed he had become; then she was angry at herself for sighing.
Kate was accordingly as wayward as Preston—and who, indeed,
had greater excuse? Rich and well born, beautiful and high-spirited,
she was positively the reigning belle in Charleston during the whole
of that gay winter. To a complexion delicately fair, and a person of
the most exquisite proportions, she united those graces of mind and
manner, which, in that courtly day, were considered the unerring
accompaniments of high breeding. Report awarded to her numbers
of unsuccessful suitors; but all had tacitly resigned their claims in
favor of Major Lindsay, an English officer of noble blood, between
whom and an earldom there was only a single life. Gay and splendid
in person and equipage, the Major no sooner laid siege to the heart
of the heiress, than her less favored suitors gave over in despair;
and what between lounging most of his mornings away in her parlor,
and attending her abroad on all occasions, he speedily came to have
the field nearly altogether to himself.
The arrival of the major anticipated that of Preston about a
month, and when our hero returned, he found his rival almost
domesticated at Mr. Mowbray’s house. Jealousy soon revealed to
Preston the secret of his own long hidden love; but it made him
heartily hate the major. The two gentlemen seemed perfectly to
understand each other. But the Englishman knew better than his
rival how to suppress his feelings, and accordingly possessed every
advantage over him in superior ease and self-command. Had Kate
wished otherwise, she could not but have given the larger share of
her attention to the graceful, brilliant and composed man of fashion,
rather than to his more irritable and wayward rival, whom a fancied
slight, in word or look, was sufficient to make dumb for a whole
evening. Depend on it, the worst possible use to which a lover can
put himself is to be sulky.
Perhaps it was the enmity he nourished against his more
successful rival; perhaps it was the natural indignation of a frank and
noble heart against oppression; perhaps, which is more natural, it
was both combined, but Preston had not been long at home before
he formed the resolution to take part with his countrymen in the war
then going on; and the sudden appearance of General Marion on the
Santee, where he began a partisan conflict with the invaders,
opened to him a favorable way for carrying out his design, which he
only postponed until he could part from Kate on better terms. He
flattered himself that she herself was secretly on the side of the
colonists, for her father had once held a commission under the
provisional government, although since the fall of Charleston and the
apparent conquest of the colony, he, like many others, had been
induced to take a royal protection, and ground his arms as a neutral.
One morning Preston found Kate alone in her little parlor. It was
rare that she was without visiters, for Major Lindsay, at least, was
usually at her side. Kate wore a pretty morning-dress, and was
sewing, her little tiny foot, that rested on a cushioned stool, peeping
provokingly out beneath the snowy muslin. A woman one admires
never looks lovelier than when occupied in this truly feminine
employment; and as Kate made room for Preston beside her, with
her sweetest smile, he thought she had never seemed half so
charming. Lovers can imagine how happy Preston soon was. He and
Kate talked of old times, she busily plying her needle, but every now
and then looking up with animation into his face. His heart beat
quicker, and he longed to tell her how he loved her; it would, I fear,
have set your head or mine, reader, topsy-turvy at once. A dozen
long forgotten incidents were called to mind: how Preston had once
rescued Kate from the river, how they both wept when her old nurse
died, and a score of other things. The color of both heightened, and
Preston felt every instant as if he could snatch the dear girl to his
arms. In the eagerness of conversation, all at once Kate placed her
hand familiarly on his.
“And do you remember,” she said, gazing up with sparkling eyes
into his face, “do you remember when the pony ran away with you?
Oh! I was half dead with fright, and screamed lustily. Those were
happy days—I wonder if we are ever as happy as in childhood. I
sometimes wish we were back again on that old lawn.” And she
sighed.
“Do you, indeed?” said Preston, his whole face lighting up, and
he took her hand by an impulse he could no longer resist.
At that moment the words which would have decided his fate
were rising to Preston’s lips, and Kate, as if secretly forewarned,
began to tremble and be confused, when the door was flung open
and the servant in a loud voice announced Major Lindsay.
 If any of my readers has ever been interrupted when about to
declare himself, and had to come plump down from rapture to
foolishness, he can imagine Preston’s chagrin at the entrance of the
visiter. However, he had tact enough to think of Kate’s
embarrassment, and as he rose to make his bow, adroitly placed
himself so as to conceal her for a moment, and allow her time to
recover from her confusion. The major gave both parties, on the
instant, a suspicious glance, but his softest smile immediately
succeeded, and with easy assurance taking the seat Preston had
vacated, he glided into a strain of brilliant small talk, such as would
have done honor to any gallant of the day, incomparable at
compliments and snuff-boxes. Preston was angry at this
unceremonious supplanting, but even more angry to see how quickly
Kate recovered herself, and dashed out into the strife of repartee,
with a spirit and ease superior even to the major’s. Preston chafed,
and thought she might have been a little less interested. At first he
was silent and reserved, then he began to be uneasy, and once or
twice he yielded to his irritability in words. He cursed his folly for
imagining, as he did five minutes before, that she thought more of
him than she did of others. He fixed his eyes half frowningly, half
contemptuously on Kate. She colored immediately, he thought with
conscious guilt. The next instant she turned haughtily away and
addressed the major. Now, for the first time, Preston became
convinced of the existence of the engagement respecting which he
had heard so much. Burning with mortification, after sitting a few
seconds, during which Kate did not once address him, he arose and
abruptly took his leave.
“She loves him,” he exclaimed bitterly. “Dazzled by the glitter of a
coronet, she casts aside her old and tried friend like a worn-out
trinket. Oh! God, was it for this I hastened home? was it for this I
treasured her memory through long years?”
For hours he remained alone, now pacing his chamber with rapid
strides, now burying his face moodily in his hands. He recalled all his
various interviews with Kate, and strove to remember her every
word and look: the result was to curse himself for his egregious folly
in fancying for a moment that she loved him. But after awhile his
feelings grew less exasperated. He reflected on Kate’s manner that
morning, before the arrival of Major Lindsay, and hope once more
dawned in his bosom.
“I will lose no time,” he said, “in learning my fate decisively. I
shall see Kate at her aunt’s ball, and her manner there will
determine my suspense. If she is cold and haughty I will understand
that she wishes to rebuke my presumption this morning. In that
case, I will trifle here no longer, but at once join Gen. Marion.
Macdonald, my foster-brother, loves me too well to desert me, but
he has been crazy to be gone this fortnight past. I will order him to
get a pass and have every thing ready in case of the worst, which
my heart forebodes.”
It was after arriving at this determination, and receiving
Macdonald’s message, that Preston gave himself up to his
melancholy, nor did he rise from his desponding position until it was
time to dress for Mrs. Blakeley’s ball.
The sound of gay music, the flashing of diamonds and the
twinkling of light forms met his sight as he entered the ball-room;
but he had eyes only for one object: and he soon sought out Kate
amid her crowd of admirers. Never had she looked so transcendently
lovely. It is thought a mark of taste and fashion now-a-days to laugh
at the enormous hoops and powdered hair of our grandmothers: but
let us tell you, good reader, that a belle of the present age, with her
deformed tournure and Dutch amplitude of skirt, though she may
create a sort of matter-of-fact sensation, very suitable perhaps for
this money-making generation, never awakens that deep sentiment
of adoration, that respectful, awe-struck, Sir Charles Grandison
feeling, bestowed on the beauty of the last century, august in silver
tissue and high-heeled shoes. The veriest stickler for modern ease
would have given up the point at sight of Kate. She wore, as was
then the custom, a petticoat of rich brocade, a single yard of which
cost more than the twenty ells of lute-string flaunted by a beauty
now. Over this was a robe of white satin, made high on the
shoulders, but opening in front so as partially to reveal the swelling
bust, and expose the richly-gemmed stomacher and glittering
petticoat. The edge of this robe from the neck down was trimmed
with a quilling of blue ribbon, which was also continued around the
bottom. The tight sleeve, with bands like the trimming of the robe,
reached to the elbow: and the deep ruffle of Valenciennes lace
which nearly hid the round white arm, heightened with rare art the
beauties it affected to conceal. Her hair was gathered back from the
forehead, richly powdered, and trimmed coquettishly with blue
ribbon. Now, if there be any heretical repudiator of the past, denying
the brilliancy that powder gave a fair complexion, we wish he would
go and look at one of Copley’s portraits, or—what is better!—could
have seen Kate then! We trow his mouth would have watered. We
doubt if justice is done to those good old times. Ah! those were the
days of courtly dames and high-bred cavaliers—when the stately
minuet still held sway—when gentlemen bowed reverently over the
hand they scarcely dared to kiss—and when it was the crowning
felicity of a whole evening’s devotion to hand a partner to the table
by the tips of the fingers. Now-a-days people bounce through frisky
quadrilles, while gallants tuck the arm of a mistress under their own
as cozily as an old codger does his umbrella.
Preston was advancing toward Kate, when a buzz of admiration
announced that Major Lindsay was about to lead her forth to the
minuet. He won accordingly only a hasty curtsey in reply to his bow.
He was meanwhile subjected to the mortification of hearing from a
dozen bystanders the rumor of Kate’s engagement to the major; and
one or two officiously applied to him to confirm the rumor, knowing
his intimacy with the family. When the dance was concluded, which
attracted general admiration, Major Lindsay still remained at Kate’s
side. Never before had Preston noticed such meaning and delicate
assiduity in his attentions. Between the incidents of the morning and
those of the evening, no wonder Preston’s anger continued
unabated. Still he made several attempts to obtain a moment’s tête-
à-tête with Kate: but the crowd of her admirers frustrated this. At
length, toward the close of the ball, he approached her.
“I come to bid you farewell,” he said abruptly; “to-morrow I leave
Charleston.”
“Leave Charleston!” repeated a dozen voices in dismay. “What
shall we do without you?” Kate alone betrayed neither surprise nor
emotion. “Ah! indeed,” was her unconcerned reply.
Preston turned pale with suppressed mortification at this
indifference; mere friendship, he said to himself, demanded some
expression of regret at least. His feelings were not allayed by what
followed.
“You’re not going to join Marion, are you?” said Major Lindsay, in
a tone of triumphant banter, little imagining how near he was to the
truth. “Has he frightened you by the great oath he has sworn to
revenge his nephew, who was shot for a rebel? I hear he threatens
some mighty deed. Only think of his doing any thing with that
brigade of invincible tatterdemalions—Falstaff’s ragged regiment
over again!”
“Take care that you are not one of those to pay the penalty of
Marion’s oath,” retorted Preston, stung by the insolence of his
successful rival, and reckless what he said. “It was a foul deed, and
will be terribly revenged.”
Major Lindsay flushed to the brow, and his hand mechanically
sought his sword hilt; but he controlled himself immediately, and
said with a sneer—
“That might be called sedition, only we know you are a man of
peace, Mr. Preston. But he is certainly Marion-bit, is he not?” and he
turned to Kate.
Now Kate felt piqued at this unceremonious leave of her lover, as
well as at his haughty conduct in the morning. She fancied herself
trifled with, and answered cuttingly,
“Never fear Mr. Preston’s joining Marion. Our American
gentlemen, on both sides, are but carpet knights of late. They
resemble Sancho Panza, who, good soul, would not stir a step till a
rich island was promised for his share.”
Preston tingled in every vein at this speech, which he regarded
as aimed at himself. He bowed sarcastically to Kate, and glanced
angrily at Major Lindsay, as he replied,
“One might almost be tempted to join Marion after this, in order
to raise the reputation of American courage, since just now British
bravery has it dead hollow.”
 “Oh! pray,” said Kate, laughingly, “play the Atlas for the patriots
then. That’s a good man: Be the St. George to destroy this British
dragon.”
Major Lindsay looked for a moment as if he thought there was
more in this than met the ear; but he contented himself with
retorting on Preston.
“Do, by all means,” he said, “and, if you take Bobadil’s plan, you
may defeat a whole army yourself. You know he proposed to
challenge a single enemy and slay him by duello: then challenge a
second, and slay him: then a third, and dispose of him also: and so
on until the whole army was annihilated.”
Kate, as well as the rest, laughed at this sally. Preston needed
but this to complete his anger and disgust. The field, he saw, was
his rival’s, and he was glad when other persons approached and
broke up the colloquy, which, to tell the truth, was growing too
personal. But Kate was piqued and Preston enraged: and as for the
major, seeing there was a quarrel between his rival and mistress, he
had striven to widen the breach.
Preston hurried from the ball-room, and taking time only to
change his dress, repaired to the rendezvous where Macdonald
awaited him. Without a word he flung himself into the saddle, and
his companion imitating his example, they were soon without the
city. They had passed the outposts for some time, when Macdonald,
pushing his horse close to Preston’s, opened the conversation.
“We’re clear of that confounded town at last, thank Heaven!” he
said, “and I, for one, aint sorry. Them Englishmen are as saucy as
princes, and think nobody has any courage but themselves. But I
know one stout fellow that can snuff a candle with his rifle at two
hundred yards, and before a week we’ll have a rap at ’em, for I
s’pose you go direct, sir, to Marion’s camp?”
Preston nodded a gloomy assent, for buried in his own thoughts
he cared not to be disturbed. Macdonald saw this, and, defeated in
his attempt to open a conversation, dropped back, but when out of
hearing muttered,
“I see how it is. Them women’s always getting a man into
trouble. For my part I’ll be a bachelor. Marrying’s like getting tipsy,
very pleasant except for the after repentance.”

——
 CHAPTER II.
Grave men there are by broad Santee,
Grave men with hoary hairs,
Their hearts are all with Marion,
With Marion are their prayers.
Bryant.

The period of which we write was one that will ever be

memorable in the annals of our country. Never had the fortunes of
the patriots been at so low an ebb in the south, as between the
defeat of Gates, at Camden, and the inroad of Cornwallis into North
Carolina. After the fall of Charleston no time had been lost in
overrunning the colony. All organized resistance being at an end, a
proclamation was published, inviting the citizens to return to his
majesty’s government, and stipulating for little more on their part
than neutrality. Large numbers, even of the Whigs, accepted these
terms: and had Cornwallis adhered to his promises, then indeed
might liberty have been despaired of. But the royal leader soon
threw off the mask, and required all who had accepted the
protection, as it was called, to declare themselves openly on the
royal side, in the further prosecution of the war. Finding themselves
thus basely deceived, many flew to arms; but such, whenever
captured, were executed as rebels. The fate of Col. Hayne, who was
put to death at Charleston under these circumstances, was but a
type of that of hundreds of lesser note, who perished often without
a trial.
The war, meanwhile, was carried on with savage ferocity against
the Whigs. Their plantations were laid waste, their negroes carried
off, their houses given to the flames. The seven vials of wrath were
literally poured out on South Carolina. Instances of cruelty without
number are left on record. One may suffice. An innocent Quaker
who took care of a sentry’s musket for a few minutes, while the
soldier went on an errand, was seized for this pretended crime and
thrown into prison. His wife hurried to the jail to see him. She was
told to wait a few minutes and she should be conducted to him. With
this brutal jest on their lips, the royal myrmidons hurried to the
man’s cell, dragged him forth and hung him at the jail window: then,
returning to his wife, they led her into the yard, and showed her
husband to her quivering in the agonies of death. But God at last
raised up an avenger for these and other atrocities. Suddenly, in the
very heart of the oppressed district, there arose a defender, bitter,
sleepless, unforgiving—seemingly endowed with miraculous powers
of intelligence—whose motions were quick as lightning—who dealt
blows now here, now there, at points least expected—and who, by a
series of rapid and brilliant successes, soon made his name a terror
to the British. Volunteers flocked in crowds to his standard. His
boldness and gallantry filled the colony with astonishment and
rejoicing. Wherever a surprise took place—wherever a convoy was
cut off—wherever a gallant deed was unexpectedly done, men said
that Marion had been there.
Preston had succeeded in raising a troop, for his name was an
influential one in his neighborhood, and he was soon one of Marion’s
most trusted adherents. A man who is willing to throw his life away
on every occasion, speedily acquires the reputation of daring and
bravery. The country around the Santee, which was the chief scene
of his exploits, rung with the name of our hero. Nor was his foster-
brother, now a serjeant in Preston’s troop, and one of Marion’s
acutest scouts, without his share of renown.
Meantime the gay society of Charleston had suffered
considerable diminutions. Many of the royal officers were absent
with their commands, and a large portion of the gentry had retired
to their estates. Among these was Mr. Mowbray, who secretly
meditated joining the continental side again. Kate, too, was absent
with her aunt, at the estate of the latter.
To this place the course of our story now carries us. Mrs.
Blakeley’s mansion had heretofore escaped the visitation of war, but
within a few days a detachment under Col. Watson had halted there
on its march to Camden. With him came Major Lindsay, still an eager
suitor for Kate. But scarcely had Col. Watson encamped on the
plantation, when a body of Marion’s men, conspicuous among whom
was Capt. Preston, made their appearance, and daily harassed the
British officer, by cutting off his communications, assailing his
pickets, and sometimes even beating up his camp.
One evening Kate was sitting sewing with her aunt in the parlor,
conversing with Col. Watson, and several of his officers, who were
their guests, when the servant came in to light the candles. Old
Jacob, as he was called, filled the office of butler in the family, and
was quite a character. He was a Whig at heart, and cordially disliked
his mistress’s compulsory visiters. Having been his deceased
master’s personal servant, he had thus acquired a footing of
familiarity which allowed him to have his joke even at the table
where he waited. He piqued himself moreover on what he thought
his breeding and fine diction. He was a source of constant
amusement to the British officers, who, however, found him
sometimes their overmatch in repartee.
“Well, Jacob, what news?” said Major Lindsay. “Any more rebels
captured?”
Old Jacob turned, bowed his head profoundly, and showing his
teeth in a broad grin, said—
“Dare is no news yet, sar, dat I know on; but ’spose dare will be
some afore mornin’; for, sartain, Capt. Preston will beat up your
quarters as usual: and den, how de red-coats run!”
Kate looked up archly, yet colored when she caught the major’s
eye. That personage bit his lip, and remarked—
“Never mind Capt. Preston, Jacob: he’ll be our prisoner very
soon. Has the flag of truce come back?”
“Oh! yes, sar,” said old Jacob, his face radiant with delight.
“Habn’t you heard? Dat great news, sar. ’Spose you know Sargent
Macdonald?”
“What of him?” said the major, beginning to suspect he was
making a ridiculous figure. “He’s a savage. Why he shot Lieut.
Torriano yesterday three hundred yards off.”
“Dat he did,” said the old butler, waxing grandiloquent, “he hit de
leftenant judgematically, I insure you. But dat is not de news. You
knows Sargent Macdonald sent in word, toder day, dat if his
baggage, took in de sally, was not recorded immediately to him