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 bar-room stove of
the old, dilapidated tavern in the
ancient mining camp of 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 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 Angel's Camp. 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 may be 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 solittry 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 reg'lar, 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
anywheres, 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 any
thing the dangdest feller. Parson
Walker's wife laid very sick once, for a
good while, and it seemed as if they
warn's 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 inftnit 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,
any way."
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 wan's
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 on it
not chew, 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 by 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 bolt,
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 sur- prised, 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 bolt 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 punch 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 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 any thing 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
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 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 been
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 an'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 outjump 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, I don't see no p'ints
about that frog that's any better'n any
other frog."
May be you don't," Smiley says. "May
be you understand frogs, and may be
you don't understand 'em; may be
you've had experience, and may be you
an't only a amature, as it were.
Anyways, I've got my opinion, and I'll
risk forty dollars that he can outjump
any 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 an'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, 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 wan's 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.
The feller took the money and started
away; and when he was going out at
the door, he 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 an'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 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 "
"Oh! hang Smiley and his afflicted cow!"
I muttered, good-naturedly, and
bidding the old gentleman good-day, I
departed