Music Welcome to snoozecast. The podcast is designed to help you fall asleep. Find us at snoozecast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by Tom Katz and Bull Pops. Tonight, for our 888th episode, we'll read the 1865 Mark Twain short story, the celebrated jumping frog of Calaveras County. It was Twain's first great success as a writer and brought him national attention. We first aired this story back in the year 2020. In the following tale, the narrator retails the story he heard from a bartender, Simon Wheeler in California, about the gambler named Jim Smiley. Jim Smiley is described as betting on just about anything, for example, on the travels of a straddle bug. If you're wondering what a straddle bug is, just picture a large, commonplace beetle. The story is set against the backdrop of the California Gold Rush, a period of American history marked by fervent optimism and the pursuit of fortune. Twain's depiction of this time captures the essence of a society where people from all walks of life mingled and gambled on everything imaginable. The quirky characters and their antics provide a humorous lens through which readers can view the era's adventurous spirit and sometimes absurd undertakings. Wayne's writing style in this story is notable for its use of vernacular speech and regional dialects. This stylistic choice adds authenticity to the characters in their environment, bringing the story to life with vivid colloquial language. Twain's ability to capture the unique voices of his characters helped establish his reputation as a master storyteller and chronicler of American life. Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now, take a few deep breaths. In compliance with the request of a friend of mine, who wrote me from the east, I called on good-natured, gary-less old Simon Wheeler, and inquired after my friend's friend, Leonidas W. Smiley, as requested to do. And I hear him to append the result. I have a lurking suspicion that Leonidas W. Smiley is a myth, and that my friend never knew such a personage, and that he only conjectured 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 of him as long and as tedious as it should be useless to me. If that was the design, it succeeded. I found Simon Wheeler dosing comfortably by the bar room stove of the dilapidated tavern in the decayed 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 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 Angel's 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 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 narrative, their ran of vain, 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. Reverend Leonidas W. Hmm. Reverend Lee. 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. So what makes me think it was one or the other is because I remember the big flume weren't finished when he first came to camp. But anyway, he was the curious 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. Anyway, that suited the other man would suit him. Anyway, just so he's 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 fellared 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 them flush, or you'd find them busted at the end of 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 set in on a fence, he would bet you which one would fly first.

Or if there was a camp meeting, he would be there regular Tibet on-person walker, which he judged to be the best exorter about here. And he was too, and a good man. If you ever see a straddle bug start to go anywhere, 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 follow that straddle bug to Mexico. But what he would find out there, he was bound for, and how long he was on the road. Lots of the boys here have seen that smiley, and can tell you about him. Why, it never made no difference to him. He'd bet on anything. The dangest feller. Parsons walkers 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 came in and smiley up and asked him how she was. And he said she was considerable better, thank the Lord for his infinite mercy. 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, she'd own anyway. The sheriff smiley had a mayor.

The boy's 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 two 300 yards start, and pass her underway. But always at the tail 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. I'm kicking up more dust and raising more racket with their coughing and sneezing and blowing her nose. And always fetch up at this stand just about a neck ahead, as near as you could cipher it down. Well, the sure smiley had rat terriers and chickens 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 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 learned that frog to jump. And you bet he did learn him too. He'd give him a little tap behind. And the next minute, you'd see that frog whirling in the air like a donut. See him turn one semer set, where maybe a couple, if he got a good start. And come down flat-footed, at all right, like a cat. You got him up so in the matter of kitchen flies and kept him in the 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 Daniel Webster down here on this floor. Daniel Webster was the name of the frog, and sing out. Flies, Daniel flies. And quicker and you could wink. He'd spring straight up, snake a fly off in the counter there, and flop down on the floor again, as solid as a goob 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 doing any more and any frog might do. He never see a frog so modest and straightforward 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 in animal of his breed, ever see. Jumping on a dead level was his strong suit, you understand? And when it come to that, smiley would empty up money on, as long as he had a red. Smiley was monstrous proud of his frog, and well he might be. For fellers that had traveled, then been everywhere, 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 downtown sometimes and lay for a bet. day, a feller, a stranger in the camp he was,

come across him with his box and says,

what might be that you've got in the box?

And smiley says, shorter and different like, it might be a parrot, or it might be a canary, maybe, mutternate, it's only just a frog. And the feather took it and looked dead it carefully and turned 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. He can out jump any 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, he says, 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 ain't only

an amateur, as it were.

Anyways, I've got my opinion an all-risk $40 that he can out jump, and he frog in Calaveras County. and the fella 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 smileys and set down to wait. So he set there a good while, thinking and thinking to his self. And then he got the frog out and prized his mouth open and took a teaspoon and filled him full of quail shot, filled, 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 catched a frog and fetched him in, and gave him to this feller, and says, Now, if you're ready, set him alongside of Daniel with his four paws just even with Daniels and I'll give the word. Then he says, one, two, three, get. And him and the feller touched up the frogs from behind and the new frog hopped off lively. But Daniel gave a heave and heisted up his shoulders, but it weren't no use. He couldn't budge. He was planted and saw it as a church, 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 feller took the money and started away. And when he was going out at the door, he sort of jerked his thumb over his shoulder. So a Daniel and says again, very deliberate. Well, he says I don't see no points about that frog that's any better than any other frog. Smiley, he stood scratching his head, and looking down at Daniel a long time, and at last says,

I do wonder what in the nation that frog throwed off for. I wonder if there ain't something the matter with him. He appears to look mighty baggy somehow, and he catched up Daniel by the nap of the neck and hefted him and says, Why blame my cats if he'd own way five pounds? And turned him upside, and he belched out a double handful of shot. And then he'd see how it was, and he was the maddest man. He set the frog down and took out after that feller. But he never catched him. And I, 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 Reverend Leonidas W smiley. And so I started away.

And at the door, I met the sociable Wheeler returning. and he butthole me and recommended. Well, Misha Smiley had a yoller one-eyed cow that didn't have no tail. just the short stump like a banana and however lacking both time and inclination, I did not wait to hear about the afflicted cow. And I took my leave. Yn yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n yw'n y