And there it might have lain forlorn From morn till eve, from eve to morn: But that, by some wild impulse led, The mother, ere she turn'd and fled, One moment stood erect and high; Then pour'd into the silent sky A cry so jubilant, so strange, That Alice--as she strove to range Her rebel ringlets at her glass-- Sprang up and gazed across the grass; Shook back those curls so fair to see, Clapp'd her soft hands in childish glee; And shriek'd--her sweet face all aglow, Her very limbs with rapture shaking-- "My hen has laid an egg, I know; And only hear the noise she's making!" THE JUMPING FROG [Sidenote: _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 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 anything about this Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley, I would feel under many obligations to him.