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The thrush, or, as he is sometimes profanely styled, the thrasher, is the most pretentious, perhaps I ought to say the greatest, of New England songsters, if we rule out the mocking-bird, who is so very rare with us as scarcely to come into the competition; and still, in my opinion, his singing seldom produces the effect of really fine music.
Jenny Wren giggled. "That's just like him," said she. "It is because he thrashes his tail around so much that he is called a Thrasher. I suppose he was wearing his new spring suit." "I don't know whether it was a new suit or not, but it was mighty good looking," replied Peter.
It may attain considerable variation, as in the robin. But in the choir of our best singers, like the catbird, thrasher, and mocking bird, there is unending variation of notes. It seems almost impossible to doubt the charming quality of this voice upon the mate. It certainly is chiefly confined to the mating season, and is indulged in almost entirely by the males.
"He is not so well," said the captain, "as I and all his subjects could wish." "More's the pity," replied Neptune; "and how is the Prince of Wales?" "The Prince is well," said the captain, "and now governs as regent in the name of his royal father." "And how does he get on with his wife?" said the inquisitive god. "Bad enough," said the captain; "they agree together like a whale and a thrasher."
"There is a bright-brown bird beating with his tail, down under the quince bushes now," said Dodo. "Is that some kind of a cousin?" "It's a Song Thrush," said Rap. "Or rather what the Wise Men call a Brown Thrasher," said the Doctor; "the very bird of which I was speaking." "Who are the Wise Men?" asked Rap.
But these pictures taken by my boy will show you his home that I must now lose and his dog now twelve years old; poor dog, I do not know where he will go when I go to the Home. My dear boy saved his life when he was your age as I suppose, and do you know how? By running to him when he was caught in a thrasher and my boy stepped on a scythe as he ran and he was many weeks in bed while I nursed him.
Once more an incident in the naval warfare of the Great War was to involve diplomatic exchanges between the belligerents and the United States. The African liner Falaba, a British ship on her way from Liverpool to Lisbon, was torpedoed in St. George's Channel on the afternoon of March 28, 1915. She had as one of her passengers an American, L. C. Thrasher, who lost his life when the ship sank.
The blows of the thrasher, a large fish, of the same species as the whale, given with incredible force and noise on the back of the whale, were now answered by his more unwieldy antagonist, who lashed the sea with fury in his attempts to retaliate upon his more active assailant; and while the contention lasted, the water was in a foam. In a few minutes, the whale plunged, and disappeared.
Melindy Thrasher had not seen more than a fortnight's service in the Lawson family when Mr. Spriggins made it convenient to stay and spend the evening.
William M. Thrasher, at this time Professor of Mathematics in the Butler University, at Irvington, near Indianapolis, was the teacher in charge of that school, and it is to him that I am under obligations for about all the "book learning" that I possess. True, I went to college after that, but I merely skimmed over the studies there assigned me.