Mark Twain

THE NOTORIOUS JUMPING FROG OF CALAVERAS COUNTY [Pronounced Cal-e-va-ras]

In compliance with the request of a friend of mine, who wrote me from the

East, I called on good-natured, garrulous old Simon Wheeler, and inquired

after my friend's friend, Leonidas W. Smiley, as requested to do, and I

hereunto append the result. I have a lurking suspicion that Leonidas W.

Smiley is a myth that my friend never knew such a personage; and that he

on conjectured that if I asked old Wheeler about him, it would remind him

of his infamous Jim Smiley, and he would go to work and bore me to death

with some exasperating reminiscence him as long and as tedious as it

should be useless to me. If that was the design, it succeeded.

I found Simon Wheeler dozing comfortably by the bar-room stove of the

dilapidated tavern in the decayed mining camp Angel's, and I noticed that

he was fat and bald-headed, and had an expression of winning gentleness

and simplicity upon his tranquil countenance. He roused up, and gave me

good day. I told him that a friend of mine had commissioned me to make

some inquiries about a cherished companion of his boyhood named Leonidas

W. Smiley--Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley, a young minister of the Gospel, who

he had heard was at one time resident of Angel's Camp. I added that if

Mr. Wheeler could tell me anything about this Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley,

I would feel under many obligations to him.

Simon Wheeler backed me into a corner and blockaded me there with his

chair, and then sat down and reeled off the monotonous narrative which

follows this paragraph. He never smiled he never frowned, he never

changed his voice from the gentle flowing key to which he tuned his

initial sentence, he never betrayed the slightest suspicion of

enthusiasm; but all through the interminable narrative there ran a vein

of impressive earnestness and sincerity, which showed me plainly that,

so far from his imagining that there was anything ridiculous or funny

about his story, he regarded it as a really important matter, and admired

its two heroes as men of transcendent genius in 'finesse.' I let him go

on in his own way, and never interrupted him once.

"Rev. Leonidas W. H'm, Reverend Le--well, there was a feller here, once

by the name of Jim Smiley, in the winter of '49 --or maybe it was the

spring of '50--I don't recollect exactly, somehow, though what makes me

think it was one or the other is because I remember the big flume warn't

finished when he first come to the camp; but anyway, he was the

curiousest man about always betting on anything that turned up you ever

see, if he could get anybody to bet on the other side; and if he couldn't

he'd change sides. Any way that suited the other man would suit him any

way just so's he got a bet, he was satisfied. But still he was lucky,

uncommon lucky; he most always come out winner. He was always ready and

laying for a chance; there couldn't be no solit'ry thing mentioned but

that feller'd offer to bet on it, and take any side you please, as I was

just telling you. If there was a horse-race, you'd find him flush or

you'd find him busted at the end of it; if there was a dog-fight, he'd

bet on it; if there was a cat-fight, he'd bet on it; if there was a

chicken-fight, he'd bet on it; why, if there was two birds setting on a

fence, he would bet you which one would fly first; or if there was a

camp-meeting, he would be there reg'lar to bet on Parson Walker, which he

judged to be the best exhorter about here, and so he was too, and a good

man. If he even see a straddle-bug start to go anywheres, he would bet

you how long it would take him to get to--to wherever he was going to,

and if you took him up, he would foller that straddle-bug to Mexico but

what he would find out where he was bound for and how long he was on the

road. Lots of the boys here has seen that Smiley, and can tell you about

him. Why, it never made no difference to him--he'd bet on any thing--the

dangdest feller. Parson Walker's wife laid very sick once, for a good

while, and it seemed as if they warn't going to save her; but one morning

he come in, and Smiley up and asked him how she was, and he said she was

considerable better--thank the Lord for his inf'nite mercy--and coming on

so smart that with the blessing of Prov'dence she'd get well yet; and

Smiley, before he thought, says, 'Well, I'll resk two-and-a-half she

don't anyway.'

"Thish-yer Smile) had a mare--the boys called her the fifteen-minute nag,

but that was only in fun, you know, because of course she was faster than

that--and he used to win money on that horse, for all she was so slow and

always had the asthma, or the distemper, or the consumption, or something

of that kind. They used to give her two or three hundred yards' start,

and then pass her under way; but always at the fag end of the race she

get excited and desperate like, and come cavorting and straddling up,

and scattering her legs around limber, sometimes in the air, and

sometimes out to one side among the fences, and kicking up m-o-r-e dust

and raising m-o-r-e racket with her coughing and sneezing and blowing her

nose--and always fetch up at the stand just about a neck ahead, as near

as you could cipher it down.

"And he had a little small bull-pup, that to look at him you'd think he

warn't worth a cent but to set around and look ornery and lay for a

chance to steal something. But as soon as money was up on him he was a

different dog; his under-jaw'd begin to stick out like the fo'castle of

a steamboat, and his teeth would uncover and shine like the furnaces.

And a dog might tackle him and bully-rag him, and bite him, and throw him

over his shoulder two or three times, and Andrew Jackson--which was the

name of the pup--Andrew Jackson would never let on but what he was

satisfied, and hadn't expected nothing else--and the bets being doubled

and doubled on the other side all the time, till the money was all up;

and then all of a sudden he would grab that other dog jest by the j'int

of his hind leg and freeze to it--not chaw, you understand, but only just

grip and hang on till they throwed up the sponge, if it was a year.

Smiley always come out winner on that pup, till he harnessed a dog once

that didn't have no hind legs, because they'd been sawed off in a

circular saw, and when the thing had gone along far enough, and the money

was all up, and he come to make a snatch for his pet holt, he see in a

minute how he'd been imposed on, and how the other dog had him in the

door, so to speak, and he 'peared surprised, and then he looked sorter

discouraged-like and didn't try no more to win the fight, and so he got

shucked out bad. He give Smiley a look, as much as to say his heart was

broke, and it was his fault, for putting up a dog that hadn't no hind

legs for him to take holt of, which was his main dependence in a fight,

and then he limped off a piece and laid down and died. It was a good

pup, was that Andrew Jackson, and would have made a name for hisself if

he'd lived, for the stuff was in him and he had genius--I know it,

because he hadn't no opportunities to speak of, and it don't stand to

reason that a dog could make such a fight as he could under them

circumstances if he hadn't no talent. It always makes me feel sorry when

I think of that last fight of his'n, and the way it turned out.

"Well, thish-yer Smiley had rat-tarriers, and chicken cocks, and tomcats

and all them kind of things, till you couldn't rest, and you couldn't

fetch nothing for him to bet on but he'd match you. He ketched a frog

one day, and took him home, and said he cal'lated to educate him; and so

he never done nothing for three months but set in his back yard and learn

that frog to jump. And you bet you he did learn him, too. He'd give him a

little punch behind, and the next minute you'd see that frog whirling in

the air like a doughnut--see him turn one summerset, or maybe a couple,

if he got a good start, and come down flat-footed and all right, like a

cat. He got him up so in the matter of ketching flies, and kep' him in

practice so constant, that he'd nail a fly every time as fur as he could

see him. Smiley said all a frog wanted was education, and he could do

'most anything--and I believe him. Why, I've seen him set Dan'l Webster

down here on this floor--Dan'1 Webster was the name of the frog--and sing

out, 'Flies, Dan'l, flies!' and quicker'n you could wink he'd spring

straight up and snake a fly off'n the counter there, and flop down on the

floor ag'in as solid as a gob of mud, and fall to scratching the side of

his head with his hind foot as indifferent as if he hadn't no idea he'd

been doin' any more'n any frog might do. You never see a frog so modest

and straightfor'ard as he was, for all he was so gifted. And when it

come to fair and square jumping on a dead level, he could get over more

ground at one straddle than any animal of his breed you ever see.

Jumping on a dead level was his strong suit, you understand; and when it

come to that, Smiley would ante up money on him as long as he had a red.

Smiley was monstrous proud of his frog, and well he might be, for fellers

that had traveled and been everywheres all said he laid over any frog

that ever they see.

"Well, Smiley kep' the beast in a little lattice box, and he used to

fetch him down-town sometimes and lay for a bet. One day a feller

--a stranger in the camp, he was--come acrost him with his box, and says:

"'What might it be that you've got in the box?'

"And Smiley says, sorter indifferent-like, 'It might be a parrot, or it

might be a canary, maybe, but it ain't--it's only just a frog.'

"And the feller took it, and looked at it careful, and turned it round

this way and that, and says, 'H'm--so 'tis. Well, what's HE good for.

"'Well,' Smiley says, easy and careless, 'he's good enough for one thing,

I should judge--he can outjump any frog in Calaveras County.

"The feller took the box again, and took another long, partiular look,

and give it back to Smiley, and says, very deliberate, 'Well,' he says,

'I don't see no pints about that frog that's any better'n any other

frog.'

"'Maybe you don't,' Smiley says. 'Maybe you understand frogs and maybe

you don't understand 'em; maybe you've had experience, and maybe you

ain't only a amature, as it were. Anyways, I've got my opinion, and I'll

resk forty dollars the he can outjump any frog in Calaveras County.'

"And the feller studied a minute, and then says, kinder sad-like, 'Well,

I'm only a, stranger here, and I ain't got no frog; but if I had a frog,

I'd bet you.

"And then Smiley says, 'That's all right0-that's all right if you'll hold

my box a minute, I'll go and get you a frog.' Any so the feller took the

box, and put up his forty dollars along with Smiley's, and set down to

wait.

"So he set there a good while thinking and thinking to himself and then

he got the frog out and prized his mouth open and took a teaspoon and

filled him full of quail-shot-filled him pretty near up to his chin--and

set him on the floor. Smiley he went to the swamp and slopped around in

the mud for a long time, and finally he ketched a frog, and fetched him

in, and give him to this feller and says:

"'Now, if you're ready, set him alongside of Dan'l, with his fore paws

just even with Dan'l's, and I'll give the word.' Then he says, 'One-two-

three--git' and him and the feller touches up the frogs from behind, and

the new frog hopped off lively but Dan'l give a heave, and hysted up his

shoulders---so-like a Frenchman, but it warn't no use--he couldn't budge;

he was planted as solid as a church, and he couldn't no more stir than if

he was anchored out. Smiley was a good deal surprised, and he was

disgusted too, but he didn't have no idea what the matter was of course.

"The Teller took the money and started away; and when he was going out at

the door, he sorter jerked his thumb over his shoulder--so--at Dan'l, and

says again, very deliberate, 'Well,' he says, 'I don't see no pints about

that frog that's any better'n any other frog.'

"Smiley he stood scratching his head and looking down at Dan'l a long

time, and at last he says, 'I do wonder what in the nation that frog

throw'd off for--I wonder if there ain't something the matter with him

--he 'pears to look mighty baggy, somehow.' And he ketched Dan'l by the

nap of the neck, and hefted him, and says, 'Why blame my cats if he don't

weigh five pound!' and turned him upside down and he belched out a double

handful of shot. And then he see how it was, and he was the maddest man

--he set the frog down and took out after that feller, but he never

ketched him. And--"

[Here Simon Wheeler heard his name called from the front yard, and got up

to see what was wanted.] And turning to me as he moved away, he said:

"Just set where you are, stranger, and rest easy--I ain't going to be

gone a second."

But, by your leave, I did not think that a continuation of the history of

the enterprising vagabond Jim Smiley would be likely to afford me much

information concerning the Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley, and so I started

away.

At the door I met the sociable Wheeler returning, and he buttonholed me

and recommenced:

"Well, thish-yer Smiley had a yaller one-eyed cow that didn't have no

tail, only just a short stump like a bannanner, and--"

However, lacking both time and inclination, I did not wait to hear about

the afflicted cow, but took my leave.