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THE HEDGEWARBLER, known more popularly as the "Irish Nightingale," is the
object of a most tender superstition. By day it is a roystering fellow
enough, almost as impish as our American Mocking Bird, in its emulative
attempts to demonstrate its ability to outsing the original songs of any
feathered melodist that ventures near its haunts among the reeds by the
murmuring streams. But when it sings at night, and particularly at the
exact hour of midnight, its plaintive and tender notes are no less than the
voices of babes that thus return from the spirit land to soothe their poor,
heart-aching mothers for the great loss of their darlings. The hapless
little Hedge Sparrow has great trouble in raising any young at all, as its
beautiful bluish-green eggs when strung above the hob are in certain
localities regarded as a potent charm against divers witch spells,
especially those which gain an entrance to the cabin through the wide
chimney. On the contrary, the grayish-white and brown-mottled eggs of the
Wag-tail are never molested, as the grotesque motion of the tail of this
tiny attendant of the herds has gained for it the uncanny reputation and
name of the Devil's bird.