Pen y Fan

On my ascent of the Vann mountain in Brecon, there often came a mass of limestone rolling down the precipice. "Ah sure," said the old shepherd, who was watching his fold on the mountain-side, "the fairies are at their gambols, master, for they sometimes do play at bowls with these chalk stones."
Such was his explanation; but, on gaining another ridge of the Brecon Beacon, I starteled a whole herd of these fairies, who scudded off as fast as their legs could carry them, having first changed themselves into a flock of sheep.