felicity of the wording which clothes them； and the sublimity of the
imagery whereby they are illustrated； have singled out that stanza；
and made it more celebrated than any that ever
＇〃Now； not a word out of younot a single word。 Just state your bill
and relapse into impenetrable silence for ever and ever on these
premises。 Nine hundred； dollars？ Is that all？ This check for the
amount will be honored at any respectable bank in America。 What is that
multitude of people gathered in the street for？ How？'looking at the
lightning…rods！' Bless my life； did they never see any lightning…rods
before？ Never saw 'such a stack of them on one establishment；' did I
understand you to say？ I will step down and critically observe this
popular ebullition of ignorance。〃＇
THREE DAYS LATER。We are all about worn out。 For four…and…twenty hours
our bristling premises were the talk and wonder of the town。 The
theaters languished； for their happiest scenic inventions were tame and
commonplace compared with my lightning…rods。 Our street was blocked
night and day with spectators； and among them were many who came from
the country to see。 It was a blessed relief on the second day when a
thunderstorm came up and the lightning began to 〃go for〃 my house； as the
historian Josephus quaintly phrases it。 It cleared the galleries； so to
speak。 In five minutes there was not a spectator within half a mile of
my place； but all the high houses about that distance away were full；
windows； roof； and all。 And well they might be； for all the falling
stars and Fourth…of…July fireworks of a generation； put together and
rained down simultaneously out of heaven in one brilliant shower upon one
helpless roof； would not have any advantage of the pyrotechnic display
that was making my house so magnificently conspicuous in the general
gloom of the storm。
By actual count； the lightning struck at my establishment seven
hundred and sixty…four times in forty minutes； but tripped on one of
those faithful rods every time； and slid down the spiral…twist and shot
into the earth before it probably had time to be surprised at the way the
thing was done。 And through all that bombardment only one patch of slates
was ripped up； and that was because； for a single instant； the rods in
the vicinity were transporting all the lightning they could possibly
accommodate。 Well； nothing was ever seen like it since the world began。
For one whole day and night not a member of my family stuck his head out
of the window but he got the hair snatched off it as smooth as a
billiard…ball； and； if the reader will believe me； not one of us ever
dreamt of stirring abroad。 But at last the awful siege came to an
end…because there was absolutely no more electricity left in the clouds
above us within grappling distance of my insatiable rods。 Then I sallied
forth； and gathered daring workmen together； and not a bite or a nap did
we take till the premises were utterly stripped of all their terrific
armament except just three rods on the house； one on the kitchen； and one
on the barnand； behold； these remain there even unto this day。 And
then； and not till then； the people ventured to use our street again。
I will remark here； in passing； that during that fearful time I did not
continue my essay upon political economy。 I am not even yet settled
enough in nerve and brain to resume it。
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN。Parties having need of three thousand two
hundred and eleven feet of best quality zinc…plated spiral…twist
lightning…rod stuff； and sixteen hundred and thirty…one silver…tipped
points； all in tolerable repair （and； although much worn by use； still
equal to any ordinary emergency）； can hear of a bargains by addressing
the publisher。
THE JUMPING FROG ＇written about 1865＇
IN ENGLISH。 THEN 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 right himself。 My attention has just beep 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 Americaines〃 （These Humorist Americans）。 I am one of these
humorists American 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 complimentary things about mefor which I am sure 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
any one with laughterand straightway 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 retranslate this French version back into English； and to tell
the truth I have well…nigh 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
retranslation； 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 it； was as follows
＇after it will be found the French version （French version is deleted
from this edition）； and after the latter my retranslation from the
French＇
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。 SmileyRev。 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 Lewell； there was a feller here； once
by the name of Jim Smiley； in the winter of '49 or maybe it was the
spring of '50I 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 th