Evening star., 1932-07-11
THIS AND THAT
by CHARLES E. TRACEWELL.

No thrush since has displayed the
supreme nonchalance which marked
Jimmie, the sweet singer.
He would select the bank of rhodo-
dendrcns and proceed to pry around
there as if he were in the depth of
several forests.
The presence of human beings, cats,
dogs, made not the slightest bit of diff
ference to James.
all the birds, the thrush always has
this air of indifference to its surround
ings, but Jimmie had 1t in an inccm-
parable degree.
He could not comprehend, seemingly,
that the whirring machine called a
lawn mower" was bearing down upon
him.
Calmly he would hop straight along
his charted way. as If no propelled
mechanism with whirling knives could
either catch up with him or do him
any harm If it did.
When the machine came within two
or three feet, still rolling mtently In
his direction, Jimmie would cock up
an eye, as If to inquire Whats this?"
He would look bored, that was all,
not afraid, and especially not resentful.
Jimmie was a philosopher, who knew
him who holds it.
Quietly he would hop to one side, to
wait for the machine to roll past on
grass which would grow right up again.
Then Jim would hop along as If
nothing had happened to mar his
stroll.
He loved to fly up into a tree as
| darkness was coming on. and there sing
a few bars, just for the fun of it.
How his small throat swelled as he
sent forth his inimitable song. in its
! four phrases its third climaxed with
that supreme example of harmonic. its
! fourth sinking to a quieter but never
! quite concluded ending.
| Yes, it was an ending. al! right, but,
| like the signatures Of radio broad
cast orchestras, 1t never really came
| to a conclusion. But instead Of
thoughtless, and one may suspect,
heartless operator, cutting of the melody
with a lever, the thrush never ended
his song yet, because, properly speaking,
| he has never begun it.
| Just as Venus is said to have arisen
! from the sea, perfect in all her attri-
butes, although slightly devoid OF cloth
| ing Tin which she showed herself thou
sands Of years ahead of her time). the
song of the thrush, and especially OF
| the thrush Jimmie, had no beginning.
| in real sense, because it was SO much
| like its ending.
| If one happened to hear a thrush
| begin, without knowing that 1t had
sung any previous measures, even the
most skilled musician would not be able
to assert positively which section he
was in; and if he CHANGED to hear the
conclusion. under the same unsatisfac-
! tory conditions. he might be forgiven
! for believing that he heard the very
| beginning, not the ending.
| Jimmie was a thrush. and, as
! thrush, his song partook Of their uni
/ versal nature, with this exception, that
! his was more pleasing, in every way,
more brilliant, more muSlcianly.
| Jimmie was a heayen-Sent singer.
but he has not come back this year
| We do not know how long thrushes live.
or whether an untoward accident hap
pened to him. or whether he discovered
bigger and better grove OF locust trees.
Still our waiting ears are open for
his different song; we are sure that
we shall recognize it, and, looking out
the window see a familiar back and
familiar chest.
1t will be Jimmie, in all his pride
and glory, greatest singer Of them all.
daring us, with perfect nonchalance.
to try to run over him with lawn
mower again.