 Introduction to the Jumping Frog This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ruth Golding. The Jumping Frog by Mark Twain. In English, in French, then clawed back into a civilized language once more by patient unremunerated toil. Even a criminal is entitled to fair play, and certainly when a man who has done no harm has been unjustly treated, he is privileged to do his best to write himself. My attention has just been called to an article some three years old in a French magazine entitled Revue des deux mondes, review of some two worlds, wherein the writer treats of les humoristes américains, these humorists-Americans. I am one of these humorists-Americans dissected by him, and hence the complaint I am making. This gentleman's article is an able one, as articles go in the French, where they always tangle up everything to that degree that when you start into a sentence you never know whether you are going to come out alive or not. It is a very good article, and the writer says all manner of kind and complementary things about me, for which I am sure I thank him with all my heart. But then why should he go and spoil all his praise by one unlucky experiment? What I refer to is this. He says my jumping frog is a funny story, but still he can't see why it should ever really convulse anyone with laughter, and straight away proceeds to translate it into French, in order to prove to his nation that there is nothing so very extravagantly funny about it. Just there is where my complaint originates. He has not translated it at all. He has simply mixed it all up. It is no more like the jumping frog when he gets through with it than I am like a meridian of longitude. But my mere assertion is not proof, wherefore I print the French version that all may see that I do not speak falsely. Furthermore, in order that even the unlettered may know my injury and give me their compassion, I have been at infinite pains and trouble to re-translate this French version back into English, and to tell the truth I have well now worn myself out at it, having scarcely rested from my work during five days and nights. I cannot speak the French language, but I can translate very well, though not fast, I being self-educated. I ask the reader to run his eye over the original English version of the jumping frog, and then read the French or my re-translation, and kindly take notice how the Frenchman has riddled the grammar. I think it is the worst I ever saw, and yet the French are called a polished nation. If I had a boy that put sentences together as they do, I would polish him to some purpose. Without further introduction, the jumping frog, as I originally wrote, was as follows. After it will be found the French version, and after the latter, my re-translation from the French. End of the introduction to the jumping frog. Recording by Ruiz Golding The notorious jumping frog of Calaveras County This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Ruiz Golding The jumping frog by Mark Twain 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 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 the design, it certainly succeeded. I found Simon Wheeler dozing comfortably by the barram stove of the old dilapidated tavern in the ancient mining-camp of Angels, 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, Reverend Leonidas W. Smiley, a young minister of the gospel who he had heard was at one time a resident of Angels Camp. I added that if Mr. Wheeler could tell me anything about this Reverend 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 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. 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 Reverend 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 fellow 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 anyway, 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 as he got a bet, he was satisfied. But still he was lucky, uncommon lucky, he must always come out winner. He was always ready and laying for a chance. There couldn't be no solitary thing mentioned but that fellow'd offered a 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. Or 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 regular to bet on Parson Walker, which he judged to be the best exaulter about here, and so he was too, and a good man. If he ever seen a straddlebug start to go anywhere, as 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 follow that straddlebug 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. Well, he never made no difference to him. He would bet on anything, a dang this fellow. Parson Walker's wife laid very sick once for a good while, and it seemed as if they weren't going to save her. But one morning he come in and smiley asked how she was. And he said she was considerable better, thank the Lord for his infinite 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 risk two and a half that she don't anyway. This year smiley had a mare. The boys called her the 15 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 a 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 limba, sometimes in the air, and sometimes out to one side amongst the fences, and kicking up more dust, and raising more racket with her coughing and sneezing and blowing her nose, and always fetch up at the stern just about a neck ahead, as near as you could cipher it down. And he had a little small bullpup that to look at him you'd think he wasn't worth a cent, but to set around and look ordinary, and lay for a chance to steal something. But as soon as money was up on him he was a different dog. His under-jawed began to stick out like the folksle 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, 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, just by the joint of his hind leg, and freeze to it. Not true, you understand, but only just grip and hang on until they throwed up the sponge, if it was a year. Smiley always come out winner on that pup, till he honest a dog once that didn't have no hind legs, because they'd been sawed off by a circular saw. And when the thing had gone along far enough and the money was all up, and he'd come to make a snatch for his pet halt, 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 peered surprised, and then he looked sort of discouraged, like and didn't try no more to win the fight. And so he got shucked out bad. He gives Smiley a look, as much as to say his heart was broken, it was his fault, for putting up a dog that hadn't no hind legs for him to take hold 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, would have made a name for himself 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, and the way it turned out. Well this year 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 catched a frog one day, and took him home, and said he calculated to educate him, and so he never done nothing for three months, but set in his backyard, and learn that frog to jump. And you bet 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 summer set, 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 catching 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. I have seen him set down a webster down here on this floor. Down a webster was the name of the frog, and sing out flies, Daniel flies, and quicker and you could wink, he'd spring straight up, and snake a fly off from the counter there, and flop down on the floor again as solid as a gob of mud, and fall to scratch him the side of his head with his hind foot, as indifferent as if he hadn't no idea he'd been doing any more than any frog might do. You never see a frog so modest and straightforward as he was, for all he was so gifted. And when he 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 when he might be, for fellows that had travelled and been everywhere, all said he laid over any frog that ever they see. While 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 fellow, 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, sort of 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 fellow took it and looked at it carefully and turned it round this way and that and says, hmm, so it is, well what's he good for? Well, Smiley says, easy and careless, he's good enough for one thing, I should judge him out, jump any frog in Calaveras County. The fellow 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 points about that frog that's any better than any other frog. Maybe you don't, Smiley says, maybe you understand frogs and maybe you don't understand them, maybe you've had experience and maybe you and only amateur as it were. Anyways, I've got my opinion and I'll risk $40, so he can out jump any frog in Calaveras County. And the fellow studied a minute and then says, kind of 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 fellow took the box and put up his $40 along with Smiley's and sat down to wait. So he sat 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 went to the swamp and slopped around in the mud for a long time and finally he catched a frog and fetched him in and give him to this fellow and says, now if you already set him alongside a Daniel with his four paws just even with Daniel and I'll give the word. Then he says, one, two, three, jump. And him and the fellow touched up the frogs from behind and the new frog hopped off. But Daniel gave a heave and hoisted 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 know 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 fellow took the money and started away and when he was going out at the door he sort of jerked his thumb over his shoulders this way at Daniel and says again very deliberate, well I don't see no points about that frog there's any better than any other frog. Smiley he stood scratching his head and looking down at Daniel a long time and at last he says I do wonder what in the nation that frog throwed off for. I wonder if there aren't something the matter with him. He appears to look mighty baggy somehow and he catch Daniel by the nap in the neck and lifted him up and says well I 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 fella but he never catched 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 gonna 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 Reverend Leonidas W. Smiley and so I started away. At the door I met the sociable Wheeler returning and he buttonholed me and recommenced well this year Smiley had a yellow one eyed cow that didn't have no tail only just a short stump like a banana and oh hang Smiley and his afflicted cow I muttered good-naturedly and bidding the old gentleman good day I departed. Now let the learned look upon this picture and say if iconoclasm can further go. End of chapter recording by Ruth Golding. This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Didier the jumping frog by Mark Twain translated by Madame Therese Benson. And I'm going to show you the result of this walk. I imagine that my friend never knew the character in question but that he was told that if I talked about the old Wheeler it would be reminded of the latter his infamous Jim Smiley and that the almost immortal night would follow for me to hear some infernal history as long as it is useless if it was the project he certainly succeeded. I found Simon Wheeler comfortably asleep in the old ruin tavern of the old camp of the angel and I noticed that he was grey warm with a very nice expression of sweetness and simplicity. The unending story was a serious and sincere vein proven evident that far from the figure that there is nothing ridiculous or pleasant in history, it was considered as serious matter and admired in those two heroes of the men of a transcendent superiority of finesse. I told him that I already asked him what he knew of the reverend Leonidas W. Smiley and he answered me as he did. I let him tie his knot to his leash without interrupting him. There was once here a person known under the name of Jim Smiley, it was in the winter of 49, maybe well in the spring of 1950, I don't remember exactly. What makes me believe that it was one or the other is that I remember that the great man B.F. was not achieved when he arrived at the camp for the first time, but in any way he was the most brilliant man in Paris who could see himself. Paris above all what was presented when he could find an opponent and when he did not find it, he went from the opposite side. All that was suitable for the other was suitable for him, because he fought in Paris, Smiley was satisfied. And he had a chance, an unnecessary chance, because he always won. You have to say that he was always ready to expose himself. We could not mention the slightest thing without this guy offering to bet on it anything and to take the side that we would like, as I told you earlier. If there were races, you would find it rich or bad at the end. If there was a dog fight, he would win. He would win for a cat fight, for a coke fight. By blue, if you had seen two birds on a sea, he would have offered you to bet on the one that would take the first place. And if there was a meeting at the camp, he would come to bet regularly for the Curry Walker, which he judged to be the best predictor of the environment, and which he was indeed a brave man. He would have met a woodcutter on the way, which he would have bet on the time he would need to go where he would like to go, and if you had taken it in words, he would have followed the cutlery to Mexico without worrying about going so far nor the time he would lose. Once the Curry Walker's wife was very ill for a long time, it seemed that we would not save her. But one morning, the Curry arrived, and Smiley asked him how she was doing, and he said that she was much better, thanks to the infinite misericord. So much better than with the bad addiction of Providence, she would feel, and here it is that without thinking, Smiley replied, And well, I lose two and a half that she will die anyway. Smiley had a dream that the guys would call the bidet of the quarter-hour, but only to please you, you understand, because of course, she was faster than that. He was used to earning money with this beast, whatever it was, Pussif, Kornad, always taken asm, of colic or consumption, or of something approaching. We gave him two or three hundred yards at the start, then they spent it without pain, but never in the end, she was missing to warm up, to breathe out, and when she arrived, her cartons, her defenders, her legs were wet in the air in front of the obstacles, sometimes the avoiders, and doing with that, more dust than a horse, more noise, especially with these eternals and renuflements. Crack, she always came first in a head, as fair as we can measure it. And there was a little bulldog who, to see him, was not worth a We would have thought that parrying against him was stolen, as long as he was ordinary, but as soon as he did, he became another dog. His lower machete began to come out as a front guard. His teeth would discover shining like ovens, and a dog could tackle him, excite him, bite him, throw him two or three times over his shoulder. André Jackson, that was the name of the dog, André Jackson quietly took it, as if he had never expected anything else, and when the Parisians were doubled and doubled against him, he grabbed the other dog just at the articulation of the leg behind him, and he no longer let him go, not that he had a dog, or conceived, but that he would have held on to what we threw at the ponds in the air, it was necessary for him to wait a year. Smiley always won with this beast. Unfortunately, they ended up addressing a dog that had no legs behind him because we saw them, and when things were to the point that he wanted, and that he wanted to throw himself on his favorite piece, the poor dog understood for a moment that we were afraid of him and that the other held him. You have never seen anyone look any more poor and no longer discouraged. He did not make any effort to win the fight, and was happily relieved, of the sort that, looking at Smiley as to say to him, my heart is broken, it is at fault. Why do I have to deliver to a dog that has no legs behind him, since that's where I beat him up. He felt like clapping and lying down to die. Ah, it was a good dog, it was Andre Jackson, and he would have made a name if he had lived, because he had bulls in him. He had genius, I know it, although he missed great occasions, but it is impossible to assume that a dog capable of fighting like him, certain circumstances are given and lack of talent. I feel sad every time I think about his last fight and the disappointment he had. Well, Smiley fed us Arab terriers, and fighting cocks, and cats, and all sorts of things, to the point that he was always in measure of holding your head, and that with his rage of Paris, we had no more rest. He did not catch a day, he ran a grenade and took it home, saying that he intended to do his education. You will believe me if you want, but for three months he did nothing but learn to jump in a retreat course from his house. And I will answer that he succeeded. He gave him a little kick behind, and the moment after, you see the grenade turn in the air like a bee above his neck, doing a few times two, when he was well gone, and fell on his legs like a cat. He had dressed in the art of gazing at flies, and he exercised continuously, so well that a fly, as far as it appeared, was a lost fly. Smiley was used to saying that all that was missing from a grenade was education, because with education, she could do almost everything, and I believe it. Hold on, I saw Daniel Webster there on the board, Daniel Webster was the name of the grenade, and sang to him, flies, Daniel, flies. In a blink of an eye, Daniel had bonded and seized a fly here on the counter, then jumped again on the ground, where he really stayed to scratch his head with his foot behind, as if he had not had the slightest idea of his superiority. Never have you seen such modest, as natural, wet as it was, and when it was to jump purely and simply on a flat ground, she was no longer walking in a jump like a beast of its kind that you may know. Jumping flat was his strength. When it came to that, Smiley was playing games on it as long as he was left with a red lia. You have to admit that Smiley was monstrously proud of his grenade, and he had the right because people who had traveled, who had seen everything, said that he would make a jury to compare it to another. The way that Smiley kept Daniel in a small box, a clear way that he sometimes brought to the city for a few parishes. One day, a foreign individual at the camp stopped him with his box and said to him, what do you have inside? Smiley said to a different man, this could be a pier or a seren, but it is nothing the same, it is just a grenade. The individual took it, looked at it with care, turned it to the side and the other, he said to him, here indeed, what is so good about it? My God, Smiley answered, always a clean air. She is good for one thing in my opinion, she can fight by jumping all the grenouille of Calaveras's county. The individual took the box, examined it again for a long time and made her smiley by saying a deliberate air. Eh bien, je ne vois pas que cette grenouille est rien de mieux qu'aucune grenouille. Possible que vous ne le voyez pas, dit Smiley, possible que vous vous entendiez en grenouille, possible que vous nous vous entendiez point, possible que vous ayez de l'expérience et possible que vous ne soyez qu'un amateur. De toute manière, je parie 40 dollars qu'elle battra en sautant n'importe quelle grenouille du comté de Calaveras. L'individu réfléchit une seconde et dit, comme attristé. Je ne suis qu'un étranger ici, je n'ai pas de grenouille, mais si j'en avais une, je tiendrais le pari. For bien, répond Smiley, rien n'est plus facile. Si vous voulez tenir ma boîte une minute, j'irai vous chercher une grenouille. Voilà donc l'individu qui garde la boîte, qui met ses 40 dollars sur ceux de Smiley et qui attend. Il attend assez longtemps, réfléchissant tout seul, et figurez-vous qu'il prend Daniel, lui ouvre la bouche de force et avec une cuillère atter l'ampli de menu plomb de chasse, mais l'ampli jusqu'au menton, puis il le pose par terre. Smiley, pendant ce temps, était à barbotter dans une mare. Finalement, il attrape une grenouille, la porte à cet individu et dit, maintenant, si vous êtes prêts, mettez-la tout contre Daniel avec leurs pattes de devant sur la même ligne et je donnerai le signal, puisqu'il ajoute 1, 2, 3, sauter. Lui et l'individu touchent leurs grenouilles par derrière, et la grenouille neuve se met à sauter, mais Daniel se soulève lourdement. Ose les épaules ainsi, comme un Français. À quoi bon? Il ne pouvait bouger, il était planté solide comme une enclume. Il n'avancé pas plus que si on l'humit à l'encre. Smiley fait surpris et dégoûté, mais il ne se doutait pas du tout, bien entendu. L'individu empoche l'argent, s'en va et en s'en allant, est-ce qu'il ne donne pas un coup de pouce par-dessus l'épaule, comme ça aux pauvres Daniel en disant de son air délibéré? Eh bien, je ne vois pas que cette grenouille est rien de mieux qu'une autre. Smiley se gratta longtemps la tête, les yeux fixés sur Daniel, jusqu'à ce qu'enfin il dit. Je me demande comment diable il se fait que cette bête est refusée. Est-ce qu'elle aurait quelque chose? On croirait qu'elle est enflée. Il empoigne Daniel par la peau du coup, le soulève et dit. Le lume croque s'il ne pèse pas cinq livres. Il retourne et le malheureux crache deux poignets de plomb. Quand Smiley reconnue ce qui en était, il fut comme fou. Vous le voyez d'ici poser sa grenouille par terre et courir après cet individu, mais il ne le rattra pas jamais. Et, à ce point de son récit, Simon Wheeler entendit son nom crié dans la cour et à la voir ce qu'on lui voulait. Se tournant vers moi, rester où vous êtes, étranger, mettez-vous à votre aise, je reviens tout de suite. Mais avec votre permission, je ne jugeais pas que la suite de l'histoire de ce vagabond entreprenant, Jim Smiley, pu me mettre beaucoup sur la trace du révérent Leonidas W. Smiley, de sorte que je m'en allais de mon côté. À la porte, je rencontrais la fable Wheeler qui m'arrêta par la boutonnière et repris. Eh bien, ce Smiley avait une vache jaune qui était borne et qui n'avait point de que rien qu'un petit tronçon comme une banane pour ainsi dire. Que le diable emporte Smiley et sa vache affligée, murmurèges poliment. Et donnant le bonjour au vieux gentleman, je le plantais là. And of la grenouille sauteuse du comté de Calaveras. The frog jumping of the county of Calaveras. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ruth Golden. The jumping frog by Mark Twain. Translation of the above back from the French. The frog jumping of the county of Calaveras. It there was one time here, an individual known under the name of Jim Smiley. It was in the winter of 49, possibly well at the spring of 50, I know me recollect not exactly. This which makes me to believe that it was the one or the other, it is that I shall remember that the grand flume is not achieved when he arrives at the camp for the first time. But of all sides he was the man the most fond of to bet which one have seen, betting upon all that which is presented when he could find an adversary. And when he not of it could not, he passed to the side opposed. All that which convenient to the other to him convenient also, seeing that he had a bet Smiley was satisfied. And he had a chance, a chance even worthless, nearly always he gained. It must to say that he was always near to himself expose, but one no could mention the least thing without that these gaillards offered to bet the bottom no matter what, and to take the side that one him would, as I you it said all at the hour, to tell her. If it there was of races you find him rich or ruined at the end. If it there is a combat of dogs he bring his bet. He himself laid always for a combat of cats, for a combat of cocks by blue. If you have seen two birds upon a fence, he you should have offered of to bet which of those birds shall fly the first. And if there is meeting at the camp, meeting au camp, he comes to bet regularly for the Curie Walker which he judged to be the best predicator of the neighbourhood, predicateur des environs, and which he was in effect, and a brave man. He would encounter a bag of wood in the road whom he will bet upon the time which he shall take to go where she would go, and if you him have taken the word he will follow the bag as far as Mexique without himself caring to go so far. Neither of the time which he there lost. One time the woman of the Curie Walker is very sick during long time, it seemed that one not her saved not. But one morning the Curie arrives, and smiley him demanded how she goes, and he said that she is well better, grace to the infinite misery, lui demande comment elle va, et il dit qu'elle est bien mieux grâce à l'infini miséricorde. So much better, that with the benediction of the providence she herself of it would pull out, elle sentirrait. And behold that without their thinking smiley responds. Well, I gage two-and-a-half that she will die all of same. This smiley had an animal which the boys called the nag of the quarter of hour, but solely for pleasantry you comprehend, because, well understand, she was more fast as that. Now why that exclamation? M.T. And it was custom of to gain of the silver with this beast, notwithstanding she was prusive, cornart, always taken of asthma, of colics, or of consumption, or something of approaching. One him would give two or three hundred yards at the departure, then one him passed without pain, but never at the last she not fail of herself a chauffer, of herself exasperate, and she arrives herself a carton, se défendons, her legs grell in the air before the obstacles, sometimes them elevating, and making with this more of dust than any horse, more of noise above with his étournement and reniflement, cack, she arrives then always first by one head, as just as one can it measure. And he had a small bulldog, bulldog, who to him see no value, not a cent. One would believe that to bet against him it was to steal so much he was ordinary. But as soon as the game made, she becomes another dog, her jaw inferior commenced to project like a deck of before, his teeth themselves discover brilliant like some furnaces, and a dog could him tackle, l'attacchine, him excite, him murder, le mordre, him throw two or three times over his shoulder, André Jackson, this was the name of the dog, André Jackson takes that tranquilly, as if he not himself was never expecting other thing. And when the bets were doubled and redoubled against him, he you seize the other dog just at the articulation of the leg of behind, and he not it leave more, not that he it masticate, you can see, but he himself there shall be holding, during until that one throws the sponge in the air, must he wait a year. Smiley gained always with this beast la. Unhappily they have finished by elevating a dog who no had not a feet of behind, because on them had sword. And when things were at the point that he would, and that he came to himself, throw upon his morsel favourite, the poor dog comprehended in an instant, that he himself was deceived in him, and that the other dog him had, you know have never see person having the air more penal and more discouraged. He not made no effort to gain the combat, and was rudely shucked. Fabian, this Smiley nourished some terriers our rats, and some cocks of combat, and some cats, and all sorts of things, and with his rage of betting, one no had more of repose. He trapped one day a frog, and him imported with him, a long porta, shall we, saying that he pretended to make his education. You may believe if you will, but during three months he not has nothing done, but to him apprehend to jump, apprehend a sauter, in a court retired of her mansion to sa maison. And I you respond that he have succeeded. He him gives a small blow by behind, and the instant after you shall see the frog turn in the air like a grease biscuit, make one somersault, sometimes two, when she was well started, and refall upon his feet like a cat. He him had accomplished in the art of to gobble the flies, gobede mouche, and him there exercised continually so well that a fly at the most far that she appeared was a fly lost. Smiley had customed to say that all which lacked to a frog it was the education, but with the education she could do nearly all, and him I believe. To ne, I him have seen pose Daniel Webster there upon this plank. Daniel Webster was the name of the frog, and to him sing some flies, Daniel, some flies. In a flash of the eye Daniel had bounded and seized a fly here upon the counter, then jumped anew at the earth, where he rested truly to himself, scratched the head with his behind foot, as if he no had not the least idea of his superiority. Never you not have seen frog as modest, as natural, sweet as she was. And when he himself agitated to jump purely and simply upon plain earth, she does more ground in one jump than any beast of his species the new can know. To jump plain this was his strong. When he himself agitated for that, Smiley multiplied the bets upon her as long as there to him remained a red. It must to know Smiley was monstrously proud of his frog, and he of it was right, for some men who were travelled, who had all seen, said that they to him would be injurious to him compared to another frog. Smiley guarded Daniel in a little box lattice, which he carried by times to the village for some bet. One day, an individual stranger at the camp, him arrested with his box, and him said, What is it that you have then shut up there with him? Smiley said, with an air indifferent, that could be a parakey, or a syringe, but this know is nothing of such, it not is but a frog. The individual it took, it regarded with care, it turned from one side and from the other, then he said, Tia, in effect, at what is she good? My God! responds Smiley, always with an air disengaged, she is good for one thing, to my notice, amon avie. She can batter in jump, all the frogs of the county of Calaveras. The individual retook the box, it examined of a new, long lay, and it rendered to Smiley in saying with an air deliberate, Eh bien! I know so not that that frog had nothing of better than each frog. Je ne vois pas que cette grenouille est rien de mieux qu'aucune gueule, if that isn't Gramma gone to seed, then I count myself no judge, m.t. Possible that you not it saw not, said Smiley, possible that you you comprehend frogs, possible that you not you there comprehend nothing, possible that you had of the experience, and possible that you not be but an amateur. Of all manner, de toute manière, I bet forty dollars that she batter in jumping, no matter which frog, of the county of Calaveras. The individual reflected a second, and said like sad, I not am but a stranger here, I know have not a frog, but if I of it had one I would embrace the bet. Strong well, responds Smiley, nothing of more facility, if you will hold my box a minute, I go you to search a frog. J'irai vous chercher. Behold then the individual who guards the box, who puts his forty dollars upon those of Smiley, and who attends, a guilleton. He attended enough long times, reflecting all solely. And figure you that he takes Daniel, him opens the mouth by force, and with a teaspoon, him fills with shot of the hunt, even him fills just to the chin, then he him puts by the earth. Smiley during these times was at slopping in a swamp. Finally he trapped, at hape, a frog, him carried to that individual, and said, Now if you be ready put him all against Daniel, with their before feet upon the same line, and I give the signal, then he added, one, two, three, advance. Him and the individual touched their frogs by behind, and the frog knew put to jump smartly, but Daniel himself lifted ponderously, exalted the shoulders thus, like a Frenchman. To what good he could not budge, he is planted solid like a church. He not advance no more than if one him had put at the anchor. Smiley was surprised and disgusted, but he not himself doubted not of the turn being intended, but he not doubted not of the turn being intended. The individual impoceted the silver, himself with it went, and of it himself ingoing is that he no gives not a jerk of the thumb over the shoulder, like that, at the poor Daniel, in saying with his air deliberate. Eh bien, I know, see not, that that frog has nothing of better than another. Smiley himself scratched long times the head, the eyes fixed upon Daniel, until that which at last he said, I may demand how the devil it makes itself that this beast has refused. Is it that she had something? One would believe that she is stuffed. He grasped Daniel by the skin of the neck, him lifted and said, The wolf me bite if he no way not five pounds. He him reversed, and the unhappy belched two handfuls of shot, il est malheureux, etc. When Smiley recognized how it was, he was like mad. He deposited his frog by the earth, and ran after that individual, but he not him caught never. Such is the jumping frog to the distorted French eye. I claim that I never put together such an odious mixture of bad grammar and delirium tremens in my life. What has a poor foreigner like me done? To be abused and misrepresented like this. When I say, well, I don't see no points about that frog that's any better than any other frog. Is it kind? Is it just for this Frenchman to try to make it appear that I said, Eh bien, I know sore not that that frog had nothing of better than each frog. I have no heart to write more. I never felt so about anything before. Hartford, March, 1875. End of the frog jumping of the county of Calaveras. Private history of the jumping frog story. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Ruth Golding. The Jumping Frog by Mark Twain. Private history of the jumping frog story. Five or six years ago a lady from Finland asked me to tell her a story in our negro dialect, so that she could get an idea of what that variety of speech was like. I told her one of Hopkinson Smith's negro stories and gave her a copy of Harper's Monthly containing it. She translated it for a Swedish newspaper, but by an oversight named me as the author of it instead of Smith. I was very sorry for that, because I got a good lashing in the Swedish press, which would have fallen to his share but for that mistake. For it was shown that Picaccio had told that very story in his curt and meager fashion five hundred years before Smith took hold of it and made a good and tellable thing out of it. I have always been sorry for Smith, but my own turn has come now. A few weeks ago Professor Van Dyke of Princeton asked this question. Do you know how old your jumping frog story is? And I answered, yes, forty-five years, the thing happened in Calaveras County in the spring of 1849. No, it happened earlier, a couple of thousand years earlier. It is a Greek story. I was astonished and hurt. I said, I am willing to be a literary thief if it has been so ordained. I am even willing to be caught robbing the ancient dead alongside of Hopkinson Smith, for he is my friend and a good fellow, and I think would be as honest as anyone if he could do it without occasioning remark. But I am not willing to anti-date his crimes by fifteen hundred years. I must ask you to knock off part of that. But the Professor was not chaffing. He was in earnest and could not abate a century. He named the Greek author and offered to get the book and send it to me, and the college textbook containing the English translation also. I thought I would like the translation best because Greek makes me tired. January the thirtieth he sent me the English version, and I will presently insert it in this article. It is my jumping frog-tail in every essential. It is not strung out as I would have it strung out, but it is all there. To me this is very curious and interesting, curious for several reasons. For instance, I heard the story told by a man who was not telling it to his hearers as a thing new to them, but as a thing which they had witnessed and would remember. He was a dull person and ignorant. He had no gift as a storyteller, and no invention. In his mouth this episode was merely history, history and statistics, and the gravest sort of history too. He was entirely serious, for he was dealing with what to him were austere facts, and they interested him solely because they were facts. He was drawing on his memory, not his mind. He saw no humour in his tale, neither did his listeners. Neither he nor they ever smiled or laughed. In my time I have not attended a more solemn conference. To him and to his fellow gold-minders there were just two things in the story that were worth considering. One was the smartness of its hero, Jim Smiley, in taking the stranger in with a loaded frog. And the other was Smiley's deep knowledge of a frog's nature, for he knew, as the narrator asserted and the listeners conceded, that a frog likes shot and is always ready to eat it. Those men discussed those two points and those only. They were hearty in their admiration of them, and none of the party was aware that a first-rate story had been told in a first-rate way, and that it was brim full of a quality whose presence they never suspected—humour. Now, then, the interesting question is, did the frog episode happen in Angel's camp in the spring of 49, as told in my hearing, that day in the fall of 1865? I am perfectly sure that it did. I am also sure that its duplicate happened in Biosha a couple of thousand years ago. I think it must be a case of history actually repeating itself, and not a case of a good story floating down the ages and surviving because too good to be allowed to perish. I would now like to have the reader examine the Greek story and the story told by the dull and solemn Californian, and observe how exactly alike they are in essentials. Translation. The Athenian and the Frog. Sigwick, Greek prose composition, page 116. An Athenian once fell in with a Biosha who was sitting by the roadside looking at a frog. Seeing the other approach, the Biosha said his was a remarkable frog, and asked if he would agree to start a contest of frogs on condition that he whose frog jumped farthest should receive a large sum of money. The Athenian replied that he would if the other would fetch him a frog, for the lake was near. To this he agreed, and when he was gone the Athenian took the frog, and opening its mouth poured some stones into its stomach, so that it did not indeed seem larger than before, but could not jump. The Biosha soon returned with the other frog, and the contest began. The second frog first was pinched, and jumped moderately. Then they pinched the Biosha frog, and he gathered himself for a leap, and used the utmost effort, but he could not move his body the least. So the Athenian departed with the money. When he was gone, the Biosha, wondering what was the matter with the frog, lifted him up and examined him. And being turned upside down, he opened up his mouth, and vomited out the stones. Note November 1903 When I became convinced that the jumping frog was a Greek story two or three thousand years old, I was sincerely happy, for apparently here was the most striking and satisfactory justification of a favourite theory of mine, to wit that no occurrence is soul and solitary, but is merely a repetition of a thing which has happened before, and perhaps often. Still, when I later had a chance to see Professor Sinchwick's book, I was a little staggered, because of two things. The details were a little tomb faithful to the facts in the Calavera's incident for the comfort of my theory, and I could not help being suspicious of the Greek frog, because he was willing to be fed with gravel. One can't beguile the modern frog with that product. By and by, in England after a few years, I learned that there hadn't been any Greek frog in the business, and no Greek story about his adventures. Professor Sinchwick had not claimed that it was a Greek tale. He had merely synapsised the Calavera's tale and transferred the incident to classic Greece. But as he did not state that it was the same old frog, the English papers reproved him for the omission. He told me this in England in 1899 or 1900, and was much troubled about that censure, for his act had been innocent, he believing that the story's origin was so well known as to render formal mention of it unnecessary. I was very sorry for the censure, but it was not I that applied it. I would not have done it. M.T. End of Private History of the Jumping Frog Story End of The Jumping Frog by Mark Twain