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DSP System Toolbox™
User's Guide
R2023a
How to Contact MathWorks
Phone: 508-647-7000
DSP Tutorials
1
Introduction to Streaming Signal Processing in MATLAB . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1-2
v
Modify the Display . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1-74
vi Contents
Data and Signal Management
3
Sample- and Frame-Based Concepts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3-2
Sample Rate and Frame Rate . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3-2
Generating Signals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3-3
Sample-Based Processing and Frame-Based Processing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3-4
vii
LPC Analysis and Synthesis of Speech . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4-7
Overlap-Add/Save . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4-62
viii Contents
Efficient Sample Rate Conversion Between Arbitrary Factors . . . . . . . 4-266
ix
Digital Up and Down Conversion for Family Radio Service in MATLAB
........................................................ 4-451
x Contents
Using Filter Realization Wizard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5-84
Overview of the Filter Realization Wizard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5-84
Design and Implement a Fixed-Point Filter in Simulink . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5-84
Set the Filter Structure and Number of Filter Sections . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5-91
Optimize the Filter Structure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5-91
Adaptive Filters
6
Overview of Adaptive Filters and Applications . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6-2
Adaptive Filters in DSP System Toolbox . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6-2
Choosing an Adaptive Filter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6-4
Mean Squared Error Performance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6-5
Common Applications . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6-5
xi
Multirate and Multistage Filters
7
Overview of Multirate Filters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7-2
Decimation and Interpolation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7-2
Decimators . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7-3
Interpolators . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7-4
Sample Rate Converters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7-6
Dataflow
8
Dataflow Domain . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8-2
Specifying Dataflow Domains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8-2
Simulation of Dataflow Domains . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8-2
Dataflow Parameters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8-3
Unsupported Simulink Software Features in Dataflow Domains . . . . . . . . 8-6
xii Contents
Multicore Execution of Interpolated FIR Filter using Dataflow domain
......................................................... 8-27
Write and Read Matrix Data from Binary Files in Simulink . . . . . . . . . . 11-6
xiii
Write and Read Fixed-Point Data from Binary Files in Simulink . . . . . . 11-8
Write and Read Character Data from Binary Files in Simulink . . . . . . . 11-10
xiv Contents
Generate Constant Ramp Signal . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12-37
Queues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12-59
xv
Why Does the dsp.AsyncBuffer Object Error When You Call read Before
write? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13-9
xvi Contents
Compute the Running Standard Deviation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16-12
xvii
Simulink Block Examples in Transforms and Spectral Analysis
Category
17
Analyze a Subband of Input Frequencies Using Zoom FFT . . . . . . . . . . . 17-2
xviii Contents
Estimate the Transfer Function of an Unknown System . . . . . . . . . . . . 18-40
Estimate the Transfer Function in MATLAB . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18-40
Estimate the Transfer Function in Simulink . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18-44
Fixed-Point Design
19
Fixed-Point Signal Processing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19-2
Fixed-Point Features . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19-2
Benefits of Fixed-Point Hardware . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19-2
Benefits of Fixed-Point Design with System Toolboxes Software . . . . . . . 19-2
xix
Specify Data Types for Fixed-Point Blocks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19-38
Quantizers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19-44
Scalar Quantizers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19-44
Vector Quantizers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19-47
C Code Generation
20
Functions and System Objects in DSP System Toolbox that Support C
Code Generation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20-2
xx Contents
Relocate Code Generated from MATLAB Code to Another Development
Environment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20-17
Package the Code . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20-17
Prebuilt Dynamic Library Files (.dll) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20-17
Why Does the Analyzer Choose the Wrong State Length? . . . . . . . . . . . 20-47
Reason for Verification Failure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20-48
Recommendation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20-48
xxi
HDL Code Generation
21
Find Blocks That Support HDL Code Generation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21-2
Blocks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21-2
System Objects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21-3
xxii Contents
Filter Designer: A Filter Design and Analysis App
24
Using Filter Designer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24-2
Getting Started . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24-2
Choosing a Response Type . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24-4
Choosing a Filter Design Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24-5
Setting the Filter Design Specifications . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24-5
Computing the Filter Coefficients . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24-8
Analyzing the Filter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24-8
Editing the Filter Using the Pole/Zero Editor . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24-12
Converting the Filter Structure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24-15
Exporting a Filter Design . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24-17
Generating a C Header File . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24-20
Generating MATLAB Code . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24-21
Managing Filters in the Current Session . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24-22
Saving and Opening Filter Design Sessions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24-23
xxiii
Display Frequency-Domain Data in Spectrum Analyzer . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26-18
xxiv Contents
Scopes in Referenced Models . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26-105
Scopes Within an Enabled Subsystem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26-109
Modify x-axis of Scope . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26-110
Show Signal Units on a Scope Display . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26-113
Select Number of Displays and Layout . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26-115
Dock and Undock Scope Window to MATLAB Desktop . . . . . . . . . . . . 26-116
Use Peak Finder to Find Heart Rate from ECG Input . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26-119
Logic Analyzer
27
Inspect and Measure Transitions Using the Logic Analyzer . . . . . . . . . . 27-2
Open a Simulink Model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27-2
Open the Logic Analyzer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27-2
Configure Global Settings and Visual Layout . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27-3
Set Stepping Options . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27-4
Run Model . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27-5
Configure Individual Wave Settings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27-5
Inspect and Measure Transitions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27-5
Step Through Simulation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27-7
Save Logic Analyzer Settings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27-7
xxv
Measure Statistics of Streaming Signals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28-14
Compute Moving Average Using Only MATLAB Functions . . . . . . . . . . 28-14
Compute Moving Average Using System Objects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28-15
Bibliography
29
References — Advanced Filters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29-2
xxvi Contents
1
DSP Tutorials
Use System objects to process streaming signals in MATLAB®. The signals are read in and processed
frame by frame (or block by block) in each processing loop. You can control the size of each frame.
In this example, frames of 1024 samples are filtered using a notch-peak filter in each processing loop.
The input is a sine wave signal that is streamed frame by frame from a dsp.SineWave object. The
filter is a notch-peak filter created using a dsp.NotchPeakFilter object. To ensure smooth
processing as each frame is filtered, the System objects maintain the state of the filter from one
frame to the next automatically.
Initialize the sine wave source to generate the sine wave, the notch-peak filter to filter the sine wave,
and the spectrum analyzer to show the filtered signal. The input sine wave has two frequencies: one
at 100 Hz, and the other at 1000 Hz. Create two dsp.SineWave objects, one to generate the 100 Hz
sine wave, and the other to generate the 1000 Hz sine wave.
Fs = 2500;
Sineobject1 = dsp.SineWave('SamplesPerFrame',1024,...
'SampleRate',Fs,'Frequency',100);
Sineobject2 = dsp.SineWave('SamplesPerFrame',1024,...
'SampleRate',Fs,'Frequency',1000);
SA = spectrumAnalyzer('SampleRate',Fs,...
'Method','welch',...
'AveragingMethod','exponential',...
'ForgettingFactor',0.1,...
'PlotAsTwoSidedSpectrum',false,...
'ChannelNames',{'SinewaveInput','NotchOutput'},'ShowLegend',true);
Create a second-order IIR notch-peak filter to filter the sine wave signal. The filter has a notch at 750
Hz and a Q-factor of 35. A higher Q-factor results in a narrower 3-dB bandwidth of the notch. If you
tune the filter parameters during streaming, you can see the effect immediately in the spectrum
analyzer output.
Wo = 750;
Q = 35;
BW = Wo/Q;
NotchFilter = dsp.NotchPeakFilter('Bandwidth',BW,...
'CenterFrequency',Wo, 'SampleRate',Fs);
fvtool(NotchFilter);
1-2
Introduction to Streaming Signal Processing in MATLAB
Construct a for-loop to run for 3000 iterations. In each iteration, stream in 1024 samples (one frame)
of the sinewave and apply a notch filter on each frame of the input signal. To generate the input
signal, add the two sine waves. The resultant signal is a sine wave with two frequencies: one at 100
Hz and the other at 1000 Hz. The notch of the filter is tuned to a frequency of 100, 500, 750, or 1000
Hz, based on the value of VecIndex. The filter bandwidth changes accordingly. When the filter
parameters change during streaming, the output in the spectrum analyzer gets updated accordingly.
1-3
1 DSP Tutorials
SA(Input,Output);
end
fvtool(NotchFilter)
1-4
Introduction to Streaming Signal Processing in MATLAB
At the end of the processing loop, the CenterFrequency is at 100 Hz. In the filter output, the 100
Hz frequency is completely nulled out by the notch filter, while the frequency at 1000 Hz is
unaffected.
See Also
“Filter Frames of a Noisy Sine Wave Signal in MATLAB” on page 1-6 | “Filter Frames of a Noisy
Sine Wave Signal in Simulink” on page 1-8 | “Lowpass IIR Filter Design in Simulink” on page 1-19
| “Multirate Filtering in MATLAB and Simulink” on page 1-35
1-5
1 DSP Tutorials
This example shows how to lowpass filter a noisy signal in MATLAB® and visualize the original and
filtered signals using a spectrum analyzer. For a Simulink® version of this example, see “Filter
Frames of a Noisy Sine Wave Signal in Simulink” on page 1-8.
The input signal is the sum of two sine waves with frequencies of 1 kHz and 10 kHz. The sampling
frequency is 44.1 kHz.
Sine1 = dsp.SineWave('Frequency',1e3,'SampleRate',44.1e3);
Sine2 = dsp.SineWave('Frequency',10e3,'SampleRate',44.1e3);
The lowpass FIR filter, dsp.LowpassFilter, designs a minimum-order FIR lowpass filter using the
generalized Remez FIR filter design algorithm. Set the passband frequency to 5000 Hz and the
stopband frequency to 8000 Hz. The passband ripple is 0.1 dB and the stopband attenuation is 80 dB.
FIRLowPass = dsp.LowpassFilter('PassbandFrequency',5000,...
'StopbandFrequency',8000);
Set up the spectrum analyzer to compare the power spectra of the original and filtered signals. The
spectrum units are dBm.
SpecAna = spectrumAnalyzer('PlotAsTwoSidedSpectrum',false,...
'SampleRate',Sine1.SampleRate,...
'ShowLegend',true, ...
'YLimits',[-145,45]);
This example uses frame-based processing, where data is processed one frame at a time. Each frame
of data contains sequential samples from an independent channel. Frame-based processing is
advantageous for many signal processing applications because you can process multiple samples at
once. By buffering your data into frames and processing multisample frames of data, you can improve
the computational time of your signal processing algorithms. Set the number of samples per frame to
4000.
Sine1.SamplesPerFrame = 4000;
Sine2.SamplesPerFrame = 4000;
Add zero-mean white Gaussian noise with a standard deviation of 0.1 to the sum of sine waves. Filter
the result using the FIR filter. While running the simulation, the spectrum analyzer shows that
frequencies above 8000 Hz in the source signal are attenuated. The resulting signal maintains the
peak at 1 kHz because it falls in the passband of the lowpass filter.
1-6
Filter Frames of a Noisy Sine Wave Signal in MATLAB
for i = 1 : 1000
x = Sine1()+Sine2()+0.1.*randn(Sine1.SamplesPerFrame,1);
y = FIRLowPass(x);
SpecAna(x,y);
end
release(SpecAna)
See Also
“Lowpass Filter Design in MATLAB” on page 1-11 | “Filter Frames of a Noisy Sine Wave Signal in
Simulink” on page 1-8 | “Introduction to Streaming Signal Processing in MATLAB” on page 1-2 |
“Multirate Filtering in MATLAB and Simulink” on page 1-35
1-7
1 DSP Tutorials
Open Model
To create a new blank model and open the library browser:
1 On the MATLAB Home tab, click Simulink, and choose the Basic Filter model template.
2 Click Create Model to create a basic filter model opens with settings suitable for use with DSP
System Toolbox. To access the library browser, in the Simulation tab, click Library Browser on
the model toolstrip.
The new model using the template settings and contents appears in the Simulink Editor. The model is
only in memory until you save it.
Inspect Model
Input Signal
Three source blocks comprise the input signal. The input signal consists of the sum of two sine waves
and white Gaussian noise with mean 0 and variance 0.05. The frequencies of the sine waves are 1
kHz and 15 kHz. The sampling frequency is 44.1 kHz.
1-8
Filter Frames of a Noisy Sine Wave Signal in Simulink
Lowpass Filter
The lowpass filter is modeled using a Lowpass Filter block. The example uses a generalized Remez
FIR filter design algorithm. The filter has a passband frequency of 8000 Hz, a stopband frequency of
10,000 Hz, a passband ripple of 0.1 dB, and a stopband attenuation of 80 dB.
The Lowpass Filter block uses frame-based processing to process data one frame at a time. Each
frame of data contains sequential samples from an independent channel. Frame-based processing is
advantageous for many signal processing applications because you can process multiple samples at
once. By buffering your data into frames and processing multisample frames of data, you can improve
the computational time of your signal processing algorithms.
To run the simulation, in the model, click Run. To stop the simulation, in the Spectrum Analyzer
block, click Stop. Alternatively, you can execute the following code to run the simulation for 200
frames of data.
set_param(model,'StopTime','256/44100 * 400')
sim(model);
Frequencies above 10 kHz in the source signal are attenuated. The resulting signal maintains the
peak at 1 kHz because it falls in the passband of the lowpass filter.
See Also
Lowpass Filter | Sine Wave | Random Source | Spectrum Analyzer
1-9
1 DSP Tutorials
Related Examples
• “Filter Frames of a Noisy Sine Wave Signal in MATLAB” on page 1-6
1-10
Lowpass Filter Design in MATLAB
This example shows how to design lowpass filters. The example highlights some of the most
commonly used command-line tools in the DSP System Toolbox™. Alternatively, you can use the Filter
Builder app to implement all the designs presented here. For more design options, see “Designing
Lowpass FIR Filters” on page 4-67.
Introduction
When designing a lowpass filter, the first choice you make is whether to design an FIR or IIR filter.
You generally choose FIR filters when a linear phase response is important. FIR filters also tend to be
preferred for fixed-point implementations because they are typically more robust to quantization
effects. FIR filters are also used in many high-speed implementations such as FPGAs or ASICs
because they are suitable for pipelining. IIR filters (in particular biquad filters) are used in
applications (such as audio signal processing) where phase linearity is not a concern. IIR filters are
generally computationally more efficient in the sense that they can meet the design specifications
with fewer coefficients than FIR filters. IIR filters also tend to have a shorter transient response and a
smaller group delay. However, the use of minimum-phase and multirate designs can result in FIR
filters comparable to IIR filters in terms of group delay and computational efficiency.
There are many practical situations in which you must specify the filter order. One such case is if you
are targeting hardware which has constrained the filter order to a specific number. Another common
scenario is when you have computed the available computational budget (MIPS) for your
implementation and this affords you a limited filter order. FIR design functions in the Signal
Processing Toolbox (including fir1, firpm, and firls) are all capable of designing lowpass filters
with a specified order. In the DSP System Toolbox, the preferred function for lowpass FIR filter design
with a specified order is firceqrip. This function designs optimal equiripple lowpass/highpass FIR
filters with specified passband/stopband ripple values and with a specified passband-edge frequency.
The stopband-edge frequency is determined as a result of the design.
Design a lowpass FIR filter for data sampled at 48 kHz. The passband-edge frequency is 8 kHz. The
passband ripple is 0.01 dB and the stopband attenuation is 80 dB. Constrain the filter order to 120.
N = 120;
Fs = 48e3;
Fp = 8e3;
Ap = 0.01;
Ast = 80;
Obtain the maximum deviation for the passband and stopband ripples in linear units.
Design the filter using firceqrip and view the magnitude frequency response.
1-11
1 DSP Tutorials
Minimum-Order Designs
Another design function for optimal equiripple filters is firgr. firgr can design a filter that meets
passband/stopband ripple constraints as well as a specified transition width with the smallest possible
filter order. For example, if the stopband-edge frequency is specified as 10 kHz, the resulting filter
has an order of 100 rather than the 120th-order filter designed with firceqrip. The smaller filter
order results from the larger transition band.
Specify the stopband-edge frequency of 10 kHz. Obtain a minimum-order FIR filter with a passband
ripple of 0.01 dB and 80 dB of stopband attenuation.
Fst = 10e3;
NumMin = firgr('minorder',[0 Fp/(Fs/2) Fst/(Fs/2) 1],...
[1 1 0 0],[Rp,Rst]);
Plot the magnitude frequency responses for the minimum-order FIR filter obtained with firgr and
the 120th-order filter designed with firceqrip. The minimum-order design results in a filter with
order 100. The transition region of the 120th-order filter is, as expected, narrower than that of the
filter with order 100.
hvft = fvtool(NUM,1,NumMin,1,'Fs',Fs);
legend(hvft,'N = 120','N = 100')
1-12
Lowpass Filter Design in MATLAB
Filtering Data
To apply the filter to data, you can use the filter command or you can use dsp.FIRFilter.
dsp.FIRFilter has the advantage of managing state when executed in a loop. dsp.FIRFilter
also has fixed-point capabilities and supports C code generation, HDL code generation, and optimized
code generation for ARM® Cortex® M and ARM Cortex A.
Filter 10 seconds of white noise with zero mean and unit standard deviation in frames of 256 samples
with the 120th-order FIR lowpass filter. View the result on a spectrum analyzer.
LP_FIR = dsp.FIRFilter('Numerator',NUM);
SA_FIR = spectrumAnalyzer('SampleRate',Fs);
tic
while toc < 10
x = randn(256,1);
y = LP_FIR(x);
step(SA_FIR,y);
end
release(SA_FIR)
1-13
1 DSP Tutorials
Using dsp.LowpassFilter
Design a lowpass FIR filter for data sampled at 48 kHz. The passband-edge frequency is 8 kHz. The
passband ripple is 0.01 dB and the stopband attenuation is 80 dB. Constrain the filter order to 120.
Create a dsp.FIRFilter based on your specifications.
LP_FIR = dsp.LowpassFilter('SampleRate',Fs,...
'DesignForMinimumOrder',false,'FilterOrder',N,...
'PassbandFrequency',Fp,...
'PassbandRipple',Ap,'StopbandAttenuation',Ast);
NUM_LP = tf(LP_FIR);
You can use LP_FIR to filter data directly, as shown in the preceding example. You can also analyze
the filter using FVTool or measure the response using measure.
fvtool(LP_FIR,'Fs',Fs);
1-14
Lowpass Filter Design in MATLAB
measure(LP_FIR)
ans =
Sample Rate : 48 kHz
Passband Edge : 8 kHz
3-dB Point : 8.5843 kHz
6-dB Point : 8.7553 kHz
Stopband Edge : 9.64 kHz
Passband Ripple : 0.01 dB
Stopband Atten. : 79.9981 dB
Transition Width : 1.64 kHz
You can use dsp.LowpassFilter to design minimum-order filters and use measure to verify that
the design meets the prescribed specifications. The order of the filter is again 100.
LP_FIR_minOrd = dsp.LowpassFilter('SampleRate',Fs,...
'DesignForMinimumOrder',true,...
'PassbandFrequency',Fp,...
'StopbandFrequency',Fst,...
'PassbandRipple',Ap,...
'StopbandAttenuation',Ast);
measure(LP_FIR_minOrd)
ans =
Sample Rate : 48 kHz
1-15
1 DSP Tutorials
Nlp = order(LP_FIR_minOrd)
Nlp = 100
Elliptic filters are the IIR counterpart to optimal equiripple FIR filters. Accordingly, you can use the
same specifications to design elliptic filters. The filter order you obtain for an IIR filter is much
smaller than the order of the corresponding FIR filter.
Design an elliptic filter with the same sampling frequency, cutoff frequency, passband-ripple
constraint, and stopband attenuation as the 120th-order FIR filter. Reduce the filter order for the
elliptic filter to 10.
N = 10;
LP_IIR = dsp.LowpassFilter('SampleRate',Fs,...
'FilterType','IIR',...
'DesignForMinimumOrder',false,...
'FilterOrder',N,...
'PassbandFrequency',Fp,...
'PassbandRipple',Ap,...
'StopbandAttenuation',Ast);
Compare the FIR and IIR designs. Compute the cost of the two implementations.
hfvt = fvtool(LP_FIR,LP_IIR,'Fs',Fs);
legend(hfvt,'FIR Equiripple, N = 120',...
'IIR Elliptic, N = 10');
1-16
Lowpass Filter Design in MATLAB
cost_FIR = cost(LP_FIR)
cost_IIR = cost(LP_IIR)
The FIR and IIR filters have similar magnitude responses. The cost of the IIR filter is about 1/6 the
cost of the FIR filter.
The IIR filter is designed as a biquad filter. To apply the filter to data, use the same commands as in
the FIR case.
Filter 10 seconds of white Gaussian noise with zero mean and unit standard deviation in frames of
256 samples with the 10th-order IIR lowpass filter. View the result on a spectrum analyzer.
1-17
1 DSP Tutorials
SA_IIR = spectrumAnalyzer('SampleRate',Fs);
tic
while toc < 10
x = randn(256,1);
y = LP_IIR(x);
SA_IIR(y);
end
release(SA_IIR)
You can also design filters that allow you to change the cutoff frequency at run-time.
dsp.VariableBandwidthFIRFilter and dsp.VariableBandwidthIIRFilter can be used for
such cases.
See Also
Related Examples
• “Filter Frames of a Noisy Sine Wave Signal in MATLAB” on page 1-6
• “Lowpass IIR Filter Design in Simulink” on page 1-19
• “Tunable Lowpass Filtering of Noisy Input in Simulink” on page 1-45
• “Multirate Filtering in MATLAB and Simulink” on page 1-35
1-18
Lowpass IIR Filter Design in Simulink
This example shows how to design classic lowpass IIR filters in Simulink.
The example first presents filter design using filterBuilder. The critical parameter in this design
is the cutoff frequency, the frequency at which filter power decays to half (-3 dB) the nominal
passband value. The example shows how to replace a Butterworth design with either a Chebyshev or
elliptic filter of the same order and obtain a steeper roll-off at the expense of some ripple in the
passband and/or stopband of the filter. The example also explores minimum-order designs.
The example then shows how to design and use lowpass filters in Simulink using the interface
available from the Lowpass Filter block.
Finally, the example showcases the Variable Bandwidth IIR Filter, which enables you to change the
filter cutoff frequency at run time.
filterBuilder
filterBuilder starts user interface for building filters. filterBuilder uses a specification-
centered approach to find the best algorithm for the desired response. It also enables you to create a
Simulink block from the specified design.
To start designing IIR lowpass filter blocks using filterBuilder, execute the command
filterBuilder('lp'). A Lowpass Design dialog box opens.
1-19
1 DSP Tutorials
Butterworth Filter
Design an eighth order Butterworth lowpass filter with a cutoff frequency of 5 kHz, assuming a
sample rate of 44.1 KHz.
Set the Impulse response to IIR, the Order mode to Specify, and the Order to 8. To specify the
cutoff frequency, set Frequency constraints to Half power (3 dB) frequency. To specify the
frequencies in Hz, set Frequency units to Hz, Input sample rate to 44100, and Half power (3 dB)
frequency to 5000. Set the Design method to Butterworth.
1-20
Lowpass IIR Filter Design in Simulink
Click Apply. To visualize the filter's frequency response, click View Filter Response. The filter is
maximally flat. There is no ripple in the passband or in the stopband. The filter response is within the
specification mask (the red dotted line).
1-21
1 DSP Tutorials
Open the ex_iir_design model. In Filter Builder, on the Code Generation tab, click Generate
Model. In the Export to Simulink window, specify the Block name as Butter and Destination as
Current. You can also choose to build the block using basic elements such as delays and gains, or
use one of the DSP System Toolbox filter blocks. This example uses the filter block.
1-22
Lowpass IIR Filter Design in Simulink
Click Realize model to generate the Simulink block. You can now connect the block input and output
ports to the source and sink blocks in the ex_iir_design model.
In the model, a noisy sine wave sampled at 44.1 kHz passes through the filter. The sine wave is
corrupted by Gaussian noise with zero mean and a variance of 10e-5. Run the model. The view in the
Spectrum Analyzer shows the original and filtered signals.
1-23
1 DSP Tutorials
Zooming in on the passband, you can see that the ripples are contained in the range [-0.5, 0] dB.
1-24
Random documents with unrelated
content Scribd suggests to you:
the dance of dubious propriety until such time as he should have made up
his imperial mind as to its character. For three months its fate trembled in
the balance. Then he decided that it should be and continue to be; and he
issued a formal proclamation to that effect—the first formal proclamation of
his reign. It was an opportunity for the re-introduction of ancient and
ancestral methods which the young Emperor could not lose. The edict had
gone forth in haste by word of mouth and by notice in the daily papers; but
he resolved that the proclamation should go by special envoy to all the
principalities that composed his powerful empire. Accordingly, an officer of
high rank, specially despatched from the court, read his Imperial Majesty’s
proclamation in every principality of the nation; and thereafter it was
legitimate and proper to dance the third figure of the new Lord
Chamberlain’s cotillion on all occasions of lordly festivities, and all the
elderly ladies accepted the situation with a cheerful submissiveness, and set
about using it for scandal-mongering purposes with promptitude and
alacrity.
*
* *
Early one Midsummer morning a strange fishing-smack was sighted
from the Ausserland wharves far out at sea, beating up against an obstinate
wind, and coming from the direction of the mainland. This in itself was
enough to cause general comment and to stir the whole village with a thrill
of interest; for strange vessels rarely came that way, except under stress of
storm; and though the sea was running unusually high there had been no
storm in many days. Besides, why should a vessel obviously unfitted for
that sort of sailing, beat up against a wind that would take her to the
mainland in half the time? Yet there she was, making for the island in long,
laborious tacks. Everybody stopped work to look at her; but work was
suspended and utterly thrown aside when she hoisted a pennant that,
according to the nautical code, signified that she had on board an Envoy
from his Imperial Majesty.
The whole town was astir in a moment. The shops and schools closed.
The village band began to practice as it had never practiced before. The
burgesses and other officials donned their garments of state. A committee
was promptly appointed to prepare a public banquet worthy of the
Emperor’s messenger. The children were sent collecting flowers, and were
instructed how to strew them in his path. The bell-ringers gathered and
arranged an elaborate
programme of chimes. The citizens got into their Sunday clothes, which
were most wonderful clothes in their way; and the town-crier, who played
the trumpet, got his instrument out and polished it up until it shone like
gold. But the man who felt most of the burden of responsibility upon his
shoulders was the Head Burgess. He got into his robes of office as quickly
as his wife and his three daughters could array him, and then he hastened to
the Rathhaus, or Town Hall, and there consulted the archives to find out
from the records of his predecessors what it became him to do when his
Majesty’s Envoy should announce his errand. He must make a speech, that
was clear, for the honor of the Island. But what speech should he make? He
could not compose one on the instant—in fact, he could not compose one at
all. What had his forerunners done on like occasions? He looked over the
record and found that three King’s Envoys had landed on the Island: one in
1699, to announce that the Island had been ceded by one kingdom to
another; another in 1764, to inform the people that the great-grandmother of
the hereditary Prince was dead; and another in 1848, to proclaim that the
Islanders’ right of exemption from conscription was suspended. In not one
of these cases, it should be remarked, did the message of King, Prince or
Emperor, change the face of affairs on the Island in the smallest degree. The
herring market remaining stable, the Ausserlanders cared no whit to whom
they paid taxes; as to the death of the Prince’s great-grandmother, they
simply remarked that it was a pity to die at the early age of eighty-seven;
and when they were told that they would have to get up a draft and be
conscripted into the army or navy, they just went fishing, and there the
matter dropped. One is not an Ausserlander for nothing.
But the Head Burgess found that the same speech had been used on all
three occasions. It was short, and he had little difficulty in committing it to
memory, for it took the ship of his Majesty’s Envoy six good hours to get
into port. This was the speech:
“Noble and Honorable, Well and High-Born Sir, the people of
Ausserland desire through their representative, the Head Burgess, to affirm
their unwavering loyalty to the most illustrious and high-born personage
who condescends to assume the government of a loyal and independent
populace, and to express the hope that Divine Providence may endow him
with such power and capacity as properly befit a so-situated ruler.”
So heartily did the whole population throw itself into the work of
preparing to receive the distinguished visitor, that everything had been in
readiness a full hour, when, in the early afternoon, the fishing-smack finally
made her landing. During this long hour, the whole town watched the
struggles of the little boat with the baffling wind and waves. Everybody was
in a state of delighted expectancy. An Emperor’s Envoy does not call on one
every day, and his coming offered an excuse for merry-making such as the
prosperous and easy-going people of Ausserland were only too willing to
seize.
So, when the boat made fast to the wharf, the signal guns boomed, and
the people cheered again and again, and threw their caps in the air when the
King’s Envoy appeared from the cabin and returned the salute of the Head
Burgess.
And, indeed, the King’s Envoy was a most satisfactory and gratifying
spectacle of grandeur. He was so grand and so gorgeous generally that he
might have been taken for the hereditary Prince, himself, had it not been
well known that the color of the hereditary Prince’s nose was unchangeable
—being what the ladies call a fast red—whereas, this gentleman’s face was
as white as the Head Burgess’s frilled shirtfront. But his clothes! So
splendid a uniform was never seen before. Some of it was of cobalt blue
and some of it of Prussian blue, and some of it of white; and, all over, in
every possible place, it was decorated with a gold lace and gold buttons and
silken frogs and tassels, and every other device of beauty that ingenuity
could suggest, with complete disregard of cost.
And then His Serene Highness, Herr Graf Maximilian von Bummelberg,
of Schloss Bummelfels in the Schwarzwald, stepped on the wharf and
graciously introduced himself to the representative of the people, who
grasped him warmly by the hand with a cordiality untempered by awe; and
the people shouted again as they saw the two great men together; and not
one suspected the anguish hidden by that martial outside. For, of course, as
such things will happen, the Envoy selected to carry the Emperor’s
proclamation to this marine principality was a man who had never been to
sea in his life, and who never would have made a sailor if he had been kept
at sea until he was pickled. And for eighteen hours the unfortunate
messenger of good tidings had been tossed about in the dark, close,
malodorous little cabin of a fishing-smack on the breast of a chopping sea,
beating up against a strong head wind. And, oh! had he not been sick? Sick,
sick, sick, and then again sick—so sick, indeed, that he had had to hide his
gorgeous clothes under a sailor’s dirty tarpaulin. This made him feel sicker
yet; but, though in the course of the trip he lost his respect for mankind,
including himself, for royalty, for religion, for life and for death, he still
retained a vital spark of respect for his beautiful clothes. He stood
motionless upon the wharf and returned the compliments of the Head
Burgess in a husky voice that sounded in his own ears strange and far off.
The Herr Graf Maximilian von Bummelberg, of Schloss Bummelfels in the
Schwarzwald, Envoy of his Imperial Majesty, was waiting for the ground to
steady itself, for it was behaving as it had never behaved before, to his
knowledge. It rolled and it heaved, it flew up and it nearly hit him in the
face, then it slipped away from under him and rocked back again sidewise.
Never having been on an island before, the King’s Envoy might have
thought that the land was really afloat if he had not seen that the wine in the
silver cup which the Burgess was presenting to him was swinging around
like everything else without spilling a drop.
Things began to settle a little after the Envoy had drunk the wine, and
when he had found that there was actually a carriage to take him to the
Town Hall, he brightened up wonderfully. He was much pleased to see also
that the Town Hall was solidly built of brick, and that it was to a stone
balcony that he was led to read his proclamation to the people. Grasping the
balustrade firmly with one hand, he read to the surging crowd before him—
he had heard of surging crowds before, but now he saw one that really did
surge—the message of his Imperial Master. The proclamation was
exceedingly brief, except for the recital of the titles of the Emperor. The
body of the document ran as follows:
“I announce to my faithful, loyal and devoted subjects of the honorable
principality of Ausserland, that hereafter, by my favor and pleasure, the use
of the Third Figure in the Cotillion is graciously granted to them without
further restriction. Done, under my hand and seal, this first day of July, in
the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and ninety-two.”
That was all. The people listened attentively and cheered
enthusiastically. Then the Envoy handed the proclamation and his
credentials to the Head Burgess, with a bow and a flourish, and signified his
intention of returning at once by the way he had come. Nor could any
entreaties prevail upon him even to stay to
the banquet already spread. He told the Burgesses, with many compliments
and assurances of his lofty esteem, that he had another principality to notify
before six o’clock the next morning, and that the business of his Imperial
Master admitted of not so much as a moment’s delay. The truth of the
matter, however, he kept to himself. For one thing, he could not have gazed
upon food without disastrous results. For another, he was experiencing an
emotion which in any other than a military breast would have been fear. He
had but one wish in the world, and that was to get back to the mainland, the
breeze being in his favor going back and promising a quicker passage.
Indeed it was with difficulty that he repressed a mad desire to ask the Head
Burgess whether the island ever fetched loose and floated further out, or
sank to the bottom. However, he maintained his dignity to the last; and, a
half an hour later, as the people watched the fishing-smack with the
Imperial ensign sail forth upon the dancing sea, bearing the Herr Graf
Maximilian von Bummelberg, of Schloss Bummelfels in the Schwarzwald,
they all agreed that, for a short visit, he made a very satisfactory King’s
Envoy.
But they could banquet very well without assistance from Envoys or
anybody, and they sat them down in the great hall of the Rathhaus, and they
fell upon the smoked herring and the fresh herring, and the pickled herring,
and the smoked goose-breast and the potato salad, and all the rest of the
good things, and they drank great tankards of home-made beer, and great
flagons of imported Rhenish wine; and, after that, they smoked long pipes
and chatted contentedly, mainly about the herring-market.
They had reached this stage in the proceedings before it occurred to any
one in the company to broach the comparatively uninteresting subject of the
Imperial proclamation, and then somebody said in a casual way that he did
not think he had quite caught the sense of it. Soon it appeared that no one
else had. The Head Burgess was puzzled. “I have just copied it into the
Town Archives,” he said; “but, upon my soul, I never thought of
considering the sense of it.” So the document was taken from the ponderous
safe of the Rathhaus and passed around among the goodly company, each
one of whom read it slowly through and smoked solemnly over it. The Head
Burgess was appealed to for the meaning of the word “cotillion.” He had to
confess that he did not exactly know. He believed, however, that it was a
custom-house word, and had reference to the gauging of proof spirits. Then
the Doctor was asked his opinion. He said, somewhat uneasily, that he
thought it was one of the new chemicals recently derived from coal tar; but,
with all due respect to his Imperial Majesty, he took no stock in such new-
fangled nonsense, and castor-oil would be good enough for his patients
while he lived. The School-Master would know, some one suggested; but
the School-Master had gone home early, being in expectation of an addition
to his family. The Dominie took a hand in the discussion, and calling
attention to the word figure, opined that it belonged to some branch of
astronomy hitherto under the ban of the universities on account of its
tendency to unsettle the minds of young men and promote the growth of
infidelity. He lamented the atheistical tendency of modern times, and shook
his head gravely as he said he hoped that the young Emperor would not be
led astray.
And with these words, as the last puff of his pipe rose heavenward, the
Burgess dismissed the matter from his mind, and the Emperor’s
proclamation legitimizing the Third Figure of the Cotillion vanished from
his memory—and from that of all Ausserland—passing into oblivion with
those that had told of Ausserland’s change of nationality, of the conscription
of her exempt citizens, and of the death of the great-grandmother of the
hereditary Prince.
“SAMANTHA BOOM-DE-AY.”
was a long, rough, sunlit stretch of stony turnpike that
climbed across the flanks of a mountain range in Maine, and
skirted a great forest for many miles, on its way to an upland
farming-country near the Canada border.
As you ascended this road, on your right hand was a
continuous wall of dull-hued evergreens, straggly pines and
cedars, crowded closely and rising high above a thick
underbrush. Behind this lay the vast, mysterious, silent
wilderness. Here and there the emergence of a foamy, rushing river, or the
entrance of a narrow corduroy road or trail, afforded a glimpse into its
depths, and then you saw the slopes of hills and valleys, clad ever in one
smoky, bluish veil of fir and pine.
On the other hand, where you could see through the roadside brush, you
looked down the mountain slope to the plains below, where the brawling
mountain streams quieted down into pleasant water-courses; where broad
patches of meadow land and wheat field spread out from edges of the
woods, and where, far, far off, clusters of farm-houses, and further yet,
towns and villages, sent their smoke up above the hazy horizon.
It was a road of so much variety and sweep of view, as it kept its course
along the boundary of the forest’s dateless antiquity, and yet in full view of
the prosperous outposts of a well-established civilization, that the most
calloused traveler might have been expected to look about him and take an
interest in his surroundings. But the three people who drove slowly up this
hill one August afternoon might have been passing through a tunnel for all
the attention they paid to the shifting scene.
Their vehicle was a farm-wagon; a fine, fresh-painted Concord wagon.
The horses that drew it were large, sleek, and a little too fat. A comfortable
country prosperity appeared in the whole outfit; and, although the raiment
of the three travelers was unfashionably plain, they all three had an aspect
of robust health and physical well-being, which was much at variance with
their dismal countenances—for the middle-aged man who was driving
looked sheepish and embarrassed; the good-looking, sturdy young fellow
by his side was clearly in a state of frank, undisguised dejection, and the
black-garbed woman, who sat behind in a splint-bottomed chair, had the
extra-hard granite expression of the New England woman who particularly
disapproves of something; whether that something be the destruction of her
life’s best hopes or her neighbor’s method of making pie.
For mile after mile they jogged along in silence. Occasionally the elder
man would make some brief and commonplace remark in a tentative way,
as though to start a conversation. To these feeble attempts the young man
made no response whatever. The woman in black sometimes nodded and
sometimes said “Yes?” with a rising inflection, which is a form of torture
invented and much practiced in the New England States.
It was late in the afternoon when a noise behind and below them made
them all glance round. The middle-aged man drew his horses to one side;
and, in a cloud of dust, a big, old-fashioned stage of a dull-red color
overtook them and lumbered on its way, the two drivers interchanging
careless nods.
The woman did not alter her rigid attitude, and kept her eyes cast down;
but the passing of the stage awakened a noticeable interest in the two men
on the front seat. The elder gazed with surprise and curiosity at the freight
that the top of the stage-coach bore—three or four traveling trunks of
unusual size, shape and color, clamped with iron and studded with heavy
nails.
“Be them trunks?” he inquired, staring open-mouthed at the sight. “I
never seen trunks like them before.”
Neither of his companions
answered him; but a curious new
expression came into the young man’s
face. He sat up straight for the first
time; and, as the wagon drew back
into the narrow road, he began to
whistle softly and melodiously.
*
* *
When Samantha Spaulding was left
a widow with a little boy, she got, as
one of her neighbors expressed it,
“more politeness than pity.” In truth,
in so far as the condition has any luck
about it, Samantha was lucky in her
widowhood. She was a young widow,
and a well-to-do widow. Old man Spaulding had been a good provider and
a good husband; but he was much older than his wife, and had not
particularly engaged her affections. Now that he was dead, after some
eighteen months of married life, and had left her one of the two best farms
in the county, everybody supposed that Mis’ Spaulding would marry
Reuben Pett, who owned the other best farm, besides a saw-mill and a
stage-route. That is, everybody thought so, except Samantha and Pett. They
calmly kept on in their individual ways, and showed no inclination to join
their two properties, though these throve and waxed more and more
valuable year by year. They were good friends, however. Reuben Pett was a
sagacious counselor, and a prudent man of affairs; and when Samantha’s
boy became old enough to work, he was apprenticed to Mr. Pett, to the end
that he might some day take charge of the saw-mill business, which his
mother stood ready to buy for him.
But the youthful Baxter Spaulding had not reached the age of twenty
when he cast down his mother’s hopes in utter ruin by coming home from a
business trip to Augusta and announcing that he was going to marry, and
that the bride of his choice was a young lady of
the variety stage who danced for a living, her
specialty being known as “hitch-and-kick.”
Now, this may not seem, to you who read
this, quite a complete, perfect and
unimprovable thing in the way of the
abomination of desolation; but then you must
remember that you were not born and raised in
a far corner of the Maine hills, and that you
probably have so frequently seen play-actoress-
women of all sorts that the mere idea of them
has ceased to give you cold creeps down your
back. And to Samantha Spaulding the whole
theatrical system, from the Tragic Muse to the “hitch-and-kick artiste,” was
conceived in sin and born in iniquity; and what her son proposed to do was
to her no whit better than forgery, arson, or any other ungodliness. To you
of a less distinctively Aroostook code of morals, I may say that the
enchainer of young Spaulding’s heart was quite as good a little girl in her
morals and her manners as you need want to find on the stage or off it; and
“hitch-and-kick” dancing was to her only a matter of business, as serio-
comic singing had been to her mother, as playing Harlequin had been to her
father, and as grinning through a horse-collar had been to her grandfather
and great-grandfather, famous old English clowns in their day, one of whom
had been a partner of Grimaldi. She made her living, it is true, by traveling
around the country singing a song called “Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay,” which
required a great deal of high-kicking for its just and full artistic expression;
but then, it should be remembered, it was the way she had always made her
living, and her mother’s living, too, since the old lady lost her serio-comic
voice. And as her mother had taught her all she knew about dancing, and as
she and her mother had hardly been separated for an hour since she was out
of her cradle, Little Betty Billington looked on her profession, as you well
may imagine, with eyes quite different from those with which Mrs.
Samantha Spaulding regarded it. It was a lop-sided contest that ensued, and
that lasted for months. On one side were Baxter and his Betty and Betty’s
mama—after that good lady got over her natural objections to having her
daughter marry “out of the profession.” On the other side was Samantha,
determined enough to be a match for all three of them. Mr. Reuben Pett
hovered on the outskirts, asking only peace.
At last he was dragged into the fight. Baxter Spaulding went to Bangor,
where his lady’s company happened to be playing, with the avowed
intention of wedding Betty out of hand. When his mother found it out, she
took Reuben Pett and her boy’s apprenticeship-indenture to Bangor with
her, caught the youngster ere the deed was done, and, having the majesty of
the law behind her, she was taking her helpless captive home on this
particular August afternoon. He was on the front seat of the wagon,
Samantha was on the splint-bottomed chair, and Reuben Pett was driving.
*
* *
It was a two-days’ drive from the railroad station at Byram’s Pond
around the spur of the mountain to their home. The bi-weekly stage did it in
a day; but it was unwonted traveling for Mr. Pett’s easy-going team.
Therefore, the three travelers put up at Canada Jake’s camp; so called,
though it was only on the edge of the wilderness, because it was what
Maine people generally mean when they talk of a “camp”—a large shanty
of rough, unpainted planks, with a kitchen and eating-room below, and
rudely partitioned sleeping-rooms in the upper story. It stood by the
roadside, and served the purpose of an inn.
Canada Jake was lounging in the doorway as they came up, squat, bullet-
headed and bead-eyed; a very ordinary specimen of mean French Canadian.
He welcomed them in as if he were conferring a favor upon them, fed them
upon black, fried meat and soggy, boiled potatos, and later on bestowed
them in three wretched enclosures overhead.
He himself staid awake until the sound of two bass and one treble snore
penetrated the thin partition planks; and then he stole softly up the ladder
that served for stairway, and slipped into the moonlit little room where
Baxter Spaulding was lying on a cot-bed six inches too short for him.
Putting his finger upon his lips, he whispered to the wakeful youth:
“Sh-h-h-h-h-h! You got you’ boots on?”
“No,” said Baxter softly.
“Come wiz me and don’ make no noise!”
And the next thing that Baxter Spaulding knew, he was outside of the
house, behind the wood-pile, holding a slight but charming figure in his
arms, and saying:
“Why, Betty! why, Betty!” in a dazed sort of way, while a fat and
motherly lady near by stood shaking with silent sobs, like a jelly-fish
convulsed with sympathy and affection.
“We ’eaded you off in the stage-coach!” was all she said.
*
* *
The next morning Mr. Reuben Pett was called out of the land of dreams
by a familiar feminine voice from the next room.
“Reuben Pett!” it said; “where is Baxter?”
“Baxter!” yelled Mr. Pett; “your ma wants yer!”
But Baxter came not. His room was empty. Mr. Pett descended and
found his host out by the wood-pile, splitting kindling. Canada Jake had
seen nothing whatever of the young man. He opined that the youth most
’ave got up airlee, go feeshin’.
Reuben Pett went back and reported to Samantha Spaulding through the
door. Samantha’s voice came back to him as a voice from the bottom sub-
cellar of abysmal gloom.
“Reuben,” she said; “them women have been here!”
“Why, Samantha!” he said; “it ain’t possible!”
“I heard them last night,” returned Samantha, in tones of conviction. “I
know, now. I did. I thought then I was dreamin’.”
“Most likely you was, too!” said Mr. Pett, encouragingly.
“Well, I wa’n’t!” rejoined Mrs. Spaulding, with a suddenness and an
acerbity that made her listener jump. “They’ve stole my clothes!”
“Whatever do you mean, Samantha?” roared Reuben Pett.
“I mean,” said Mrs. Spaulding, in a tone that left no doubt whatever that
what she did mean she meant very hard; “I mean that that hussy has been
here in the night, and has took every stitch and string of my clothing, and
ain’t left me so much as a button-hole, except—except—except—”
“Except what?” demanded Reuben, in stark amazement.
“Except that there idolatrous flounced frock the shameless critter doos
her stage-dancing in!”
Mr. Pett might, perhaps, have offered appropriate condolences on this
bereavement had not a thought struck him which made him scramble down
the ladder again and hasten to the woodshed, where he had put up his team
the night before. The team was gone—the fat horses and fresh painted
wagon, and the tracks led back down the road up which they had ridden the
day before.
Once more Mr. Pett climbed the ladder; but when he announced his loss
he was met, to his astonishment, with severity instead of with sympathy.
“I don’t care, Reuben Pett,” Samantha spoke through the door; “if
you’ve lost ten horses and nineteen wagons. You got to hitch some kind of a
critter to suthin’, for we’re goin’ to ketch them people to-day or my name’s
not Samantha Spaulding.”
“But Law Sakes Alive, Samantha!” expostulated Mr. Pett; “you ain’t
goin’ to wear no circus clothes, be ye?”
“You go hunt a team, Mr. Pett,” returned his companion, tartly; “I know
my own business.”
Mr. Pett remonstrated. He pointed out that there was neither horse nor
vehicle to be had in the neighborhood, and that pursuit was practically
hopeless in view of the start which the runaways had. But Mrs. Spaulding
was obdurate with an obduracy that made the heart of Reuben Pett creep
into his boots. After ten minutes of vain combating, he saw, beyond a doubt,
that the chase would have to continue even if it were to be carried on
astraddle a pair of confiscated cows. Having
learned that much, he went drearily down
again to discuss the situation with Canada
Pete. Canada Pete was indisposed to be of
the slightest assistance, until Mr. Pett
reminded him of the danger of the law in
which he stands who aids a runaway
apprentice in his flight. After that, the sulky
Canadian awoke to a new and anxious
interest; and, before long, he remembered
that a lumberer who lived “a piece” up the
road had a bit of meadow-land reclaimed
from the forest, and sometimes kept an old
horse in it. It was a horse, however, that had
always positively refused to go under
saddle, so that a new complication barred
the way, until suddenly the swarthy face of
the habitant lit up with a joyful, white-
toothed grin.
“My old calèche zat I bring from Canada!
I let you have her, hey? You come wiz me!”
And Canada Pete led the way through the underbrush to a bit of a
clearing near his house, where were accumulated many years’ deposits of
household rubbish; and here, in a desert of tin-cans and broken bottles and
crockery, stood the oldest of all old calashes.
There are calashes and calashes, but the calash or calèche of Canada is
practically of one type. It is a high-hung, tilting chaise, with a commodious
back seat and a capacious hood, and with an absurd, narrow, cushioned bar
in front for the driver to sit on. It is a startling-looking vehicle in its mildest
form, and when you gaze upon a calash for the first time you will probably
wonder whether, if a stray boy should catch on behind, the shafts would not
fly up into the air, bearing the horse between them. Canada Pete’s calash
had evidently stood long a monument of decay, yet being of sturdy and
simple construction, it showed distinct signs of life when Pete seized its
curved shafts and ran it backward and forward to prove that the wheels
could still revolve and the great hood still nod and sway like a real calash in
commission. It was ragged, it was rusty, it was water-soaked and weather-
beaten, blistered and stained; but it hung together, and bobbed along behind
Canada Pete, lurching and rickety, but still a vehicle, and entitled to rank as
such.
The calash was taken into Pete’s back-yard; and then, after a brief and
energetic campaign, Pete secured the horse, which was a very good match
for the calash. He was an old horse, and he had the spring-halt. He held his
long ewe-neck to one side, being blind in one eye; and this gave him the
coquettish appearance of a mincing old maid. A little polka step, which he
affected with his fore-feet, served to carry out this idea.
Also, he had been feeding on grass for a whole Summer, and his spirits
were those of the young lambkin that gambols in the mead. He was happy,
and he wanted to make others happy, although he did not seem always to
know the right way to go about it. When Mr. Pett and Canada Pete had got
this animal harnessed up with odds and ends of rope and leather, they sat
down and wiped their brows. Then Mr. Pett started off to notify Mrs.
Samantha Spaulding.
Mr. Pett was a man unused to feminine society, except such as he had
grown up with from early childhood, and he was of a naturally modest,
even bashful disposition. It is not surprising, therefore, that he was startled
when, on re-entering the living-room of Canada Pete’s camp, he found
himself face to face with a strange lady, and a lady, at that, of a strangeness
that he had never conceived of before. She wore upon her head a
preposterously tall bonnet, or at least a towering structure that seemed to be
intended to serve the purpose of a bonnet. It reminded him—except for its
shininess and newness—of the hood of the calash; indeed, it may have
suggested itself vaguely to his memory that his grandmother had worn a
piece of head-gear something similar, though not so shapely, which in very
truth was nicknamed a “calash” from this obvious resemblance. The lady’s
shapely and generously feminine figure was closely drawn into a waist of
shining black satin, cut down in a V on the neck, before and behind, and
ornamented with very large sleeves of a strange pattern. But her skirts—for
they were voluminous beyond numeration—were the wonder of her attire.
Within fold after fold they swathed a foamy mystery of innumerable gauzy
white underpinnings. As Mr. Pett’s abashed eye traveled down this marvel
of costume it landed upon a pair of black stockings, the feet of which
appeared to be balanced somewhat uncertainly in black satin slippers with
queer high heels.
“Reuben Pett,” said the lady suddenly and with decision, “don’t you say
nothing! If you knew how them shoes was pinching me, you’d know what I
was goin’ through.”
Mr. Pett had to lean up against the door-post before recovering himself.
“Why, Samantha!” he said at last; “seems to me like you had gone
through more or less.”
Here Mrs. Spaulding reached out in an irritation that carried her beyond
all speech, and boxed Mr. Pett’s ears. Then she drew back, startled at her
own act, but even more surprised at Mr. Pett’s reception of it. He was
neither surprised nor disconcerted. He leaned back against the door-post
and gazed on unperturbed.
“My!” he said; “Samantha, be them that play-actresses’ clo’es?”
Mrs. Spaulding nodded grimly.
“Well, all I’ve got to say, Samantha,” remarked Reuben Pett, as he
straightened himself up and started out to bring their chariot to the door;
“all I’ve got to say, and all I want to say, is that she must be a mighty fine
figure of a woman, and that you’re busting her seams.”
Down the old dusty road the old calash jiggled and juggled, “weaving”
most of the way in easy tacks down the sharp declivities. On the front seat
—or, rather, on the upholstered bar—sat Reuben Pett, squirming
uncomfortably, and every now and then trying to sit side-saddle fashion for
the sake of easier converse with his fair passenger. Mrs. Spaulding occupied
the back seat, lifted high above her driver by the tilt
of the curious vehicle, which also served to make the white foundation of
her costume particularly visible, so that there were certain jolting moments
when she suggested a black-robed Venus rising from a snowy foam-crest.
At such moments Mr. Pett lost control of his horse to such an extent that the
animal actually danced and fairly turned his long neck around as though it
were set on a pivot. When such a crisis was reached, Mrs. Spaulding would
utter a shrill and startling “hi!” which would cause the horse to stop
suddenly, hurling Mr. Pett forward with such force that he would have to
grab his narrow perch to save his neck, and for the next hundred yards or so
of descent his attention would be wholly concentrated upon his duties as
driver—for the horse insisted upon waltzing at the slightest shock to his
nerves.
Mr. Pett’s tendency to turn around and stare should not be laid up against
him. For twenty years he had seen his neighbor, Mrs. Samantha Spaulding,
once, at least; perhaps twice or thrice; mayhap even six or seven times a
week; and yet, on this occasion, he had fair excuse for looking over his
shoulder now and then to assure himself that the fair passenger at whose
feet he—literally—sat, was indeed that very Samantha of his twenty years’
knowledge. How was he, who was only a man, and no ladies’ man at that,
to understand that the local dressmaker and the local habit of wearing
wrinkly black alpaca and bombazine were to blame for his never having
known that his next door neighbor had a superb bust and a gracious waist?
How was he to know that the blindness of his own eyes was alone
accountable for his ignorance of the whiteness of her teeth, and the
shapeliness of the arms that peeped from the big, old-fashioned sleeves?
Samantha’s especial care upon her farm was her well-appointed dairy, and it
is well known that to some women work in the spring-house imparts a
delicate creaminess of complexion; but he was no close observer, and how
was he to know that that was the reason why the little V in the front of
Samantha’s black satin bodice melted so softly into the fresh bright tint of
her neck and chin? How, indeed, was a man who had no better opportunities
than Reuben Pett had enjoyed, to understand that the pretty skirt-dancer
dress, a dainty, fanciful travesty of an old-time fashion, had only revealed
and not created an attractive and charming woman in his life-long friend
and neighbor?
Samantha was not thinking in the least of herself. She had accepted her
costume as something which she had no choice but to assume in the
exercise of an imperative duty. She wore it for conscience sake only, just as
any other New England martyr to her New England convictions of right
might have worn a mealsack or a suit of armor had circumstances imposed
such a necessity.
But when Reuben Pett had looked around three or four times, she
grasped her skirts in both hands and pushed them angrily down to their
utmost length. Then, with a true woman’s dislike of outraging pretty dress
material, she made a furtive experiment or two to see if her skirts would not
answer all the purposes of modesty without hanging wrong. Perhaps she
had a natural talent that way; at any rate, she found that they would.
“Samantha,” said Reuben Pett, over his shoulder, “what under the sun
sense be there in chasin’ them two young fools up? If they want to marry,
why not let ’em marry? It’s natural for ’em to want to, and it’s agin nature
to stop ’em. May be it wouldn’t be sech a bad marriage, after all. Now you
look at it in the light of conscience—”
“You’re a nice hand to be advocating marriage, Reuben Pett,” said Mrs.
Spaulding; “you jest hurry up that horse and I’ll look out for the light of
conscience.”
Mr. Pett chirruped to the capering ewe-neck, and they jolted downward
in silence for a half a mile. Then he said suddenly, as if emerging from a
cloud of reflection:
“I ain’t never said nothing agin marriage!”
*
* *
Noon-time came, and the hot August sun poured down upon them, until
the old calash felt, as Mr. Pett remarked, like a chariot of fire. This
observation was evolved in a humorous way to slacken the tension of a
situation which was becoming distinctly unpleasant. Moved by a spirit of
genial and broadly human benevolence which was somewhat unnatural to
him, Mr. Pett had insisted upon pleading the cause of the youthful runaways
with an insistence that was at once indiscreet and futile. In the end his
companion had ordered him to hold his tongue, an injunction he was quite
incapable of obeying. After a series of failures in the way of conversational
starters, he finally scored a success by suggesting that they should pause
and partake of the meagre refection which Canada Pete had furnished them
—a modest repast of doughnuts, apples and store-pie. This they ate at the
first creek where they found a convenient place to water the horse.
When they resumed their journey, they found that they were all refreshed
and in brighter mood. Even the horse was intoxicated by the water and that
form of verdure which may pass for grass on the margin of a mountain
highway in Maine.
This change of feeling was also perceptible in the manner and bearing of
the human beings who made up the cavalcade. Samantha adjusted her
furbelows with unconscious deftness and daintiness, while she gazed before
her into the bright blue heaven; and, I am sorry to say, sucked her teeth.
Reuben frankly flung one leg over the end of his seat, and conversed easily
as he drove along, poised like a boy who rides a bare-back horse to water.
After awhile he even felt emboldened to resume the forbidden theme of
conversation.
“Nature is nature, Samantha,” he said.
“ ’Tis in some folks,” responded Samantha, dryly; “there’s others seems
to be able to git along without it.” And Reuben turned this speech over in
his mind for a good ten minutes.
Then, just as he was evidently about to say something, he glanced up and
saw a sight which changed the current of his reflections. It was only a cloud
in the heavens, but it evidently awakened a new idea in his mind.
“Samantha,” he said, in a tone of voice that seemed inappropriately
cheerful; “they’s goin’ to be a thunder storm.”
“Fiddlesticks!” said Mrs. Spaulding.
“Certain,” asseverated Mr. Pett; “there she is a-comin up, right agin the
wind.”
A thunder storm on the edge of a Maine forest is not wholly a joke. It
sometimes has a way of playing with the forest trees much as a table d’hôte
diner plays with the wooden tooth-picks. Samantha’s protests, when Mr.
Pett stated that he was going to get under the cover of an abandoned saw-
mill which stood by the roadside a little way ahead of them, were more a
matter of form than anything else. But still, when they reached the rough
shed of unpainted and weather-beaten boards, and Mr. Pett, in turning in
gave the vehicle a sudden twist that broke the shaft, her anger at the delay
thus rendered necessary was beyond her control.
“I declare to goodness, Reuben Pett,” she cried; “if you ain’t the
awkwardest! Anybody’d a’most think you’d done that a purpose.”
“Oh, no, Samantha!” said Reuben Pett, pleasantly; “it ain’t right to talk
like that. This here machine’s dreadful old. Why, Samantha, we’d ought to
sympathize with it—you and me!”
“Speak for yourself, Mr. Pett,” said Samantha. “I ain’t so dreadful old,
whatever you may be.”
At the moment Mr. Pett made no rejoinder to this. He unshipped the
merry horse, and tied him to a post under the old saw-mill, and then he
pulled the calash up the runway into the first story, and patiently set about
the difficult task of mending the broken shaft, while Samantha, looking out
through the broad, open doorway, watched the fierce Summer storm
descend upon the land; and she tapped her impatient foot until it almost
burst its too narrow satin covering.
“No, Samantha,” Mr. Pett said, at last, intently at work upon his splicing;
“you ain’t so dreadful old, for a fact; but I’ve knowed you when you was a
dreadful sight younger. I’ve knowed you,” he continued, reflectively, “when
you was the spryest girl in ten miles round—when you could dance as
lively as that young lady whose clo’es you’re a-wearin’.”
“Don’t you dare to talk to me about that jade!” said Mrs. Spaulding,
snappishly.
“Why, no! certainly not!” said Mr. Pett; “I didn’t mean no comparison.
Only, as I was a-sayin’, there was a time, Samantha, when you could
dance.”
“And who says I can’t dance now?” demanded Mrs. Spaulding, with
anger in her voice.
“My! I remember wunst,” said Mr. Pett; and then the sense of
Samantha’s angry question seemed to penetrate his wandering mind.
“ ‘Dance now?’ ” he repeated. “Sho! Samantha, you couldn’t dance
nowadays if you was to try.”
“Who says I couldn’t?” asked Samantha, again, with a set look
developing around the corners of her mouth.
“I say you couldn’t,” replied Mr. Pett, obtusely. “ ’Tain’t in nature. But
there was a time, Samantha, when you was great on fancy steps.”
“Think I’m too old for fancy steps now, do you?” She looked at her
tormentor savagely, out of the corners of her eyes.
“Well, not too old, may be, Samantha,” went on Mr. Pett; “but may be
you ain’t that limber you was. I know how it is. I ain’t smart as I used to be,
myself. Why, do you remember that night down at the Corners, when we
two was the only ones that could jump over Squire Tate’s high andirons and
cut a pigeon-wing before we come down?”
Mr. Pett appeared to be entirely unconscious that Mrs. Spaulding’s
bosom was heaving, that her eyes were snapping angrily, and that her foot
was beating on the floor in that tattoo with which a woman announces that
she is near an end of her patience.
“How high was them andirons?” she asked, breathlessly.
“Oh, I don’t know,” answered Reuben, indifferently. He kept his eyes
fixed on his work; but while he worked his splice closer with his right hand,
with his left he took off his hat and held it out rather more than two feet
above the floor.
“ ’Bout as high as that, may be,” he said. “Remember the tune we done
that to? Went some sort of way like this, didn’t it?” And with that
remarkable force of talent which is only developed in country solitudes, Mr.
Pett began to whistle an old-time air, a jiggetty, wiggetty whirl-around
strain born of some dead darkey’s sea-sawing fiddle-bow, with a volume of
sustained sound that would have put to shame anything the saw-mill could
have done for itself in its buzzingest days.
“Whee-ee-ee, ee-ee, ee ee ee, whee, ee, ee, ee ee!” whistled Mr. Pett; and
then, softly, and as if only the dim stirring of memory moved him, he began
to call the old figures of the old dance.
“Forward all!” he crooned. “Turn partners! Sashay! Alleman’ all! Whee-
ee-ee, ee-ee, ee ee, ee ee ee, whee, ee, ee, ee, ee, ee ee!”
And suddenly, like the tiger leaping from her lair, the soft pattering and
shuffling of feet behind him resolved itself into a quick, furious rhythmic
beat, and Samantha Spaulding shot high into the air, holding up her skirts
with both hands, while her neat ankles crossed each other in a marvelous
complication of agility a good twelve inches above his outstretched hat.
“There!” she cried, as she landed with a flourish that combined skill and
grace; “there’s what I done with you, and much I think of it! If you want to
see dancin’ that is dancin’ look here. Here’s what I did with Ben Griggs at
the shuckin’ that same year; and you wa’n’t there, and good reason why!”
And then and there, while Reuben Pett’s great rasping whistle rang
through the old saw-mill, shrilling above the roar of the storm outside, Mrs.
Samantha Spaulding executed with lightning rapidity and with the precision
of perfect and confident knowledge, a dancing-step which for scientific
complexity and daring originality had been twenty years before the surprise,
the delight, the tingling, shocking, tempting nine-days’-wonder of the
country-side.
“Whee-ee-ee, ee-ee, ee ee, ee ee ee, whee, ee, ee ee, ee ee!” Reuben
Pett’s whistle died away from sheer lack of breath as Samantha came to the
end of her dance.
*
* *
There is nothing that hath a more heavy and leaden cold than a chilled
enthusiasm. When the storm was over, although a laughing light
played over the landscape; although diamond sparkles lit up the grateful
white mist that rose from the refreshed earth; although the sun shone as
though he had been expecting that thunder storm all day, and was
inexpressibly glad that it was over and done with, Samantha leaned back in
her seat in the calash, and nursed a cheerless bitterness of spirit—such a
bitterness as is known only to the New England woman to whom has come
a realization of the fact that she has made a fool of herself. Samantha
Spaulding. Made a fool of herself. At her age. After twenty years of
respectable widowhood. Her, of all folks. And with that old fool. Who’d
be’n a-settin’ and a-settin’ and a-settin’ all these years. And never said Boo!
And now for him to twist her round his finger like that. She felt like—well,
she didn’t know how she did feel.
She was so long wrapped up in her own thoughts that it was with a start
that she awoke to the fact that they were making very slow progress, and
that this was due to the very peculiar conduct of Mr. Pett. He was making
little or no effort to urge the horse along, and the horse, consequently,
having got tired of wasting his bright spirits on the empty air, was
maundering. So was Mr. Pett, in another way. He mumbled to himself; from
time to time he whistled scraps of old-fashioned tunes, and occasionally he
sang to himself a brief catch—the catch coming in about the third or fourth
bar.
“Look here, Reuben Pett!” demanded Samantha, shrilly; “be you going
to get to Byram’s Pond to-night?”
“I kin,” replied Reuben.
“Well, be you?” Samantha Spaulding inquired.
“I d’no. Fact is, I wa’n’t figurin’ on that just now.”
“Well, what was you figurin’ on?” snapped Mrs. Spaulding.
“When you’s goin’ to marry me,” Mr. Pett answered with perfect
composure. “Look here, Samantha! it’s this way: here’s twenty years
you’ve kept me waitin’.”
“Me kept you waitin’! Well, Reuben Pett, if I ever!”
“Don’t arguefy, Samantha; don’t arguefy,” remonstrated Mr. Pett; “I ain’t
rakin up no details. What we’ve got to deal with is this question as it stands
to-day. Be you a-goin’ to marry me or be you not? And if you be, when be
you?”
“Reuben Pett,” exclaimed Samantha, with a showing of severity which
was very creditable under the circumstances; “ain’t you ashamed of talk
like that between folks of our age?”
“We ain’t no age—no age in particular, Samantha,” said Mr. Pett. “A
woman who can cut a pigeon-wing over a hat held up higher than any two
pair of andirons that I ever see is young enough for me, anyway.” And he
chuckled over his successful duplicity.
Samantha blushed a red that was none the less becoming for a tinge of
russet. Then she took a leaf out of Mr. Pett’s book.
“Young enough for you?” she repeated. “Well, I guess so! I wa’n’t
thinkin’ of myself when I said old, Mr. Pett. I was thinkin’ of folks who was
gettin’ most too old to drive down hill in a hurry.”
“Who’s that?” asked Reuben.
“I ain’t namin’ any names,” said Samantha; “but I’ve knowed the time
when you wasn’t so awful afraid of gettin’ a spill off the front seat of a
calash. Lord! how time does take the tuck out of some folks!” she
concluded, addressing vacancy.
“Do you mean to say that I da’sn’t drive you down to Byram’s Pond to-
night?” Mr. Pett inquired defiantly.
“I don’t know anything about it,” said Mrs. Spaulding.
Mr. Pett stuck a crooked forefinger into his lady-love’s face, and gazed
at her with such an intensity that she was obliged at last to return his
penetrating gaze.
“If I get you to Byram’s Pond before the train goes, will you marry me
the first meetin’ house we come to?”
“I will,” said Mrs. Spaulding, after a
moment’s hesitation, well remembering
what the other party to the bargain had
forgotten, that there was no church in
Byram Pond, nor nearer than forty miles
down the railroad.
*
* *
In the warm dusk of a Summer’s
evening, a limping, shackle-gaited,
bewildered horse, dragging a calash in the
last stages of ruin, brought two travelers
into the village of Byram’s Pond. Far up on
the hills there lingered yet the clouds of dust
that marked where that calash had come
down those hills at a pace whereat no calash
ever came down hill before. Dust covered
the two travelers so thickly, that, although the woman’s costume was of
peculiar and striking construction, its eccentricities were lost in a dull and
uniform grayness. Her bonnet, however, would have excited comment. It
had apparently been of remarkable height; but pounding against the hood of
the calash had so knocked it out of all semblance to its original shape, that
with its great wire hoops sticking out “four ways for Sunday,” it looked
more like a discarded crinoline perched upon her head than any known
form of feminine bonnet.
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