25 The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County
1865 version published as “Jim Smiley and Jumping Frog” by Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens)
Mr. A. Ward,
Dear Sir: -‐-‐ Well, I called on good-‐natured, garrulous old Simon Wheeler, and inquired after
your friend, Leonidas W. Smiley, as you requested me to do, and I hereunto append the result. If
you can get any information out of it you are cordially welcome to it. I have a lurking suspicion
that your Leonidas W. Smiley is a myth -‐-‐ that you never knew such a personage, and that you
only 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 nearly to death with some infernal reminiscence of
him as long and tedious as it should be useless to me. If that was your design, Mr. Ward, it will
gratify you to know that it succeeded.
**********
I found Simon Wheeler dozing comfortably by the bar-‐room stove of the old, dilapidated
tavern in the ancient mining camp of Boomerang, 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 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 a resident of this village of Boomerang. I
added that if Mr. Wheeler could tell me any thing 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 me 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 the 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 any thing 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. To me, the spectacle of a man drifting serenely along
through such a queer yarn without ever smiling was exquisitely absurd. As I said before,
I asked him to tell me what he knew of Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley, and he replied as
follows. I let him go on in his own way, and never interrupted him once:
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 wasn’t finished when
he first came to the camp; but any way, he was the curiosest man about always betting
on any thing that turned up you ever see, if he could get any body 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 solitry 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 reglar, 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 seen a straddle-‐bug start to go any wheres, he would bet you how
long it would take him to get 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 would bet on
anything -‐-‐ 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 asked him how she was, and he said she was considerable better -‐-‐ thank the
Lord for his inf’nit mercy -‐-‐ and coming on so smart that, with the blessing of
Providence, she’d get well yet -‐-‐ and Smiley, before he thought, says, “Well, I’ll resk two-‐
and-‐a-‐half that she don’t, anyway.”
Thish-‐yer Smiley 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’d 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 amongst 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 underjaw’d begin to stick out like
the fo’castle of a steamboat, and his teeth would uncover, and shine savage 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
jest grip and hang on till they thronged 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
saw 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 had 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 tom-‐cats, and all of 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’klated
to edercate 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
hunch behind, and the next minute you’d see that frog whirling in the air like a
doughnut -‐-‐ see him turn one summerset, or may be 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 kept him in practice so constant, that he’d nail a fly every time as far
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’l 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 again 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 ben
everywheres, all said he laid over any frog that ever they see.
Well, Smiley kept 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
across 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,
may be, 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 out-‐jump ary frog in Calaveras county.”
The feller took the box again, and took another long, particular look, and give it back to
Smiley, and says, very deliberate, “Well -‐-‐ I don’t see no p’ints 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 that he can outjump ary
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 right -‐-‐ that’s all right -‐-‐ if you’ll hold my box a minute,
I’ll go and get you a frog.” And 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 hisself, and then he got the frog
out and prized his mouth open and took a tea-‐spoon 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 -‐-‐ jump!” and him and
the feller touched up the frogs from behind, and the new frog hopped off, but Dan’l give
a heave, and hysted up his shoulders -‐-‐ so -‐-‐ like a Frenchman, but it wasn’t no use -‐-‐ he
couldn’t budge; he was planted as solid as an anvil, 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.
sorter jerked his thumb over his shoulders -‐-‐ this way -‐-‐ at Dan’l, and says again, very
deliberate, “Well, I don’t see no p’ints 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 lifted him up 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 ketchd him. And-‐-‐-‐-‐
[Here Simon Wheeler heard his name called from the front yard, and got up to go and
see what was wanted.] And turning to me as he moved away, he said: “Just set where
you are, stranger, and rest easy -‐-‐ I an’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 button-‐holed me and
recommenced:
“Well, thish-‐yer Smiley had a yeller one-‐eyed cow that didn’t have no tail, only jest a
short stump like a bannanner, and “
“O, curse Smiley and his afflicted cow!” I muttered, good-‐naturedly, and bidding the old
gentleman good-‐day, I departed.
