When Smiley recognized how it was, he was like mad.
He deposited his frog by the earth and ran after that individual, but he not him caught never.
Such is the Jumping Frog, to the distorted French eye.

I claim that I never put together such an odious mixture of bad grammar and delirium tremens in my life.

And what has a poor foreigner like me done, to be abused and misrepresented like this?
When I say, "Well, I don't see no p'ints about that frog that's any better'n any other frog," is it kind, is it just, for this Frenchman to try to make it appear that I said, "Eh bien! I no saw not that that frog had nothing of better than each frog"?
I have no heart to write more.

I never felt so about anything before.
HARTFORD, March, 1875.
JOURNALISM IN TENNESSEE--[Written about 1871.] The editor of the Memphis Avalanche swoops thus mildly down upon a correspondent who posted him as a Radical:--"While he was writing the first word, the middle, dotting his i's, crossing his t's, and punching his period, he knew he was concocting a sentence that was saturated with infamy and reeking with falsehood."-- Exchange.
I was told by the physician that a Southern climate would improve my health, and so I went down to Tennessee, and got a berth on the Morning Glory and Johnson County War-Whoop as associate editor.

When I went on duty I found the chief editor sitting tilted back in a three-legged chair with his feet on a pine table.