The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County

In compliance with the request of a friend of mine, who wrote me from the East, and wanted to know about a stranger he had just met at a hotel, I give below the account of a curious character I once knew at Angels; and I beg to assure the reader that what follows is the simple truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me—well, I won't say anything more about it; but it is the truth, and the facts are these:

Some years ago there was living in Angels a man by the name of Jim Smiley, who was addicted to betting on everything. If he saw a fence he would bet you he could jump it; if he saw a horse he would bet you he could ride him; if he saw a frog he would bet you he could make him jump. If he told you his belief of anything, and you disputed it, you could always bet that he believed it; and if he had a mind to be agreeable he would bet you anything you pleased.

Jim had a brother — or a cousin — or a kind of relative; well, he had some relation in the neighborhood, and this relation kept a grocer's store, and once when Jim came in he observed among the miscellaneous goods a pint bottle, and he said to the man: "What is that there for?" "Oh," says the man, "that there is darky's bitters." "How is that?" says Jim. "Do you sell it?" "Yes, we do sell it," says the man. "Well, I don't want none of it," says Jim; "but I'll tell you what: I'll fight you for the bottle. What's the odds?"

The man laughed, and said he didn't know as he wanted to fight, and 'sides he hadn't got the bottle of bitters to fight for; but Jim insisted, and said he would bet five dollars that he could drink it all up at one swallow. The man saw Jim's face, and he said, "Well, you'll have to take the bet, I guess. If you can, you can have it."

But Jim didn't drink it at that time. He had a way of winning in other people's contests. He used to go about with a tremendous appetite for knowledge, and wherever there was a contest he must enquire into it and soon be mixed up in the betting. He had an inveterate habit of putting money on everything he laid eyes on, and it didn't matter how small the sum might be; if he had a couple of cents he would enter into a wager.

One of Jim's favorite tricks was to train animals to absurd performances and then bet on them. He had a dog once that he trained to do nothing in particular and then held out for large odds on his performing nothing. But his greatest reputation was founded on a frog which he had trained to jump. The frog's name, as I remember, was Daniel Webster — not the statesman, but Jim's frog — and he asserted that Daniel could outjump any frog in the county.

A fellow-fancier came along one day, and they fell into an argument as to whose frog was the best jumper. Bets were laid; the crowd gathered. Jim brought out his frog in a battered old saucepan and began the exhibition. He would set the frog on the ground, say a word, and the frog would leap, and he would take a mark and measure it with a piece of twine. The frog's jumps were marvelous, and people said they had never seen anything like it.

But at last, when the stakes had been high and excitement at its height, Jim's adversary resorted to mean devices. He slyly fed Daniel Webster some stimulants, and while Jim's back was turned he stuffed the frog with small shot, so that the frog could not leap properly. When the contest came off, Daniel could not jump at all; he merely hopped a little, and the other man's frog outjumped him easily. Jim was taken by surprise and beaten out of his money.

Jim swore vengeance, and after a while he discovered the trick. He exposed the other man, who was ashamed and gone; but it was too late for Jim to recover his losses. From that day he always suspected everybody's motives in such contests, and it made him more sly and cautious in his wagering. Yet he pursued his old habits; betting was his life — he couldn't give it up.

The story of Jim Smiley and his jumping frog spread through the neighborhood and has been told and retold with various embellishments. People laughed at Jim, and praised the frog; and whenever a stranger came to town he was likely to hear the tale and be invited to witness a display. The celebrated frog, whether by nature or contrivance, might have been the best jumper in the county for a time — but as often happens with popular wonders, its fame was as much in the telling as in the fact.