Latest Folklore

In the vicinity of the village of Dunlop, writes Chalmers in 1824, “there was in former times a chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mary [..] After the Reformation, this chapel was allowed to fall in ruins, but the remains of it are still to be seen on the side of a small rivulet which was here crossed by stepping-stones called the Lady’s Steps, and this name is still continued altho’ the steps have been superseded by a bridge.” (Caledonia, vol. iii. p 556.)

[..] In a field in the neighbourhood is a large detached stone, round which, if tradition is to be believed, it was customary for persons attending the chapel to perform part of their devotions. It is called the Thugart Stane, supposed to be a corruption of the grid stane. This stone, the name of which is by the inhabitants of Dunlop commonly pronounced “Ogirtsane,” is composed of a variety of trap rock, differing from the trap formation in the surrounding country. What appears of it above the surface measures about 12 feet by 8, and its greatest height is about 4 feet.

From ‘the Church of Dunlop’, a chapter in Archaeological and Historical Collections relating to the counties of Ayr and Wigton, v4 (1884).

“Grisly Draeden sat alane
By the cairn and Pech stane;
Billy wi’ a segg sae stout,
Says – ‘I’ll soon turn Draeden out’ -
Draeden leuch, and stalk’d awa,
And vanish’d in a babanqua.”

This rhyme, which I picked up when a boy from an old man (David Donaldson), who posessed a rich collection of old sayings, songs, and rhymes, which I never heard anywhere else, evidently relates to a large cairn which was situated about half-way between two streams (Draeden and Billyburn), on the farm of Little Billy, in the parish of Buncle. The cairn was surrounded, except on the south-west side, by a circle of large whin stones, many of which would have weighed several tons. At the distance of about 200 yards to the east of this cairn stood a large block, of a reddish sort of granite, which the old man already mentioned used to call “The Altar.” The cairn is now removed, but this stone still stands in its original situation.

It is probable that the circle of stones surrounding the cairn had constituted, in remote times, a place of Druidical worship: and it is also probable that the small stream, a little to the north of the site of the cairn, derives its name Draeden, from this circumstance; the affix draed being similar in sound to Druid, and den, a dean or vale – The Druid’s Vale.

When a moss, which skirted this stream, was begun to be drained about twenty years ago, many pieces of oak were dug out; and I recollect of being shewn, near its northern extremity, a quagmire or babanqua, with a slit or opening in the middle of it, on which no grass or any other plant grew, owing to the constant oozing of the water from its bottom, and into which, it was said, a horse and his rider had sunk, and were never more seen.

[..] It is probable, I think, that this curious rhyme has some distant allusion to the introduction of Christianity into our island, to the discomfituer of a dark and horrid superstition, which formerly held in bondage the souls and bodies of our Pagan progenitors.

It is probable not, I think. But I do love how he spins pagan weirdness out of the elemental boggy environment. I can sympathise at least. From Mr Henderson’s reporting of ‘Popular Rhymes of Berwickshire’ in the Scottish Journal, 1848.

The Canmore site record calls this ‘The Witch’s Stone’.

On the top of the Craigs of Kyle there was, in former times, a chapel dedicated to Saint Bride. The only vestige of it now remaining is the well, which is still called Saint Bride’s Well. No notice is taken of this ancient place of worship in Chalmer’s Caledonia, or the Statistical Account of Scotland: but it is worthy of remark, from the existence of another remain of antiquity which has hitherto escaped the observation of topographical or antiquarian writers. This is a Rocking-Stone -- adding another to the many proofs, that the early propogators of Christianity invariably planted the Cross where the inhabitants had been in the habit of assembling under the Druidical form of worship.

The Rocking-Stone occupies the summit of the highest of the Craigs. It is an exceedingly large elongated block of granite, but must have been at one time much larger, as several pieces seem to have fallen from it through the action of the weather, being much exposed to the moisture and storms of the west.

We regret our inability to take an accurate measurement of the stone at the time of our visit, not having been aware of the existence of such a relic. Tradition is silen in reference to it, though it is pointed out as a curiosity by the people in the vicinity. There can be no doubt, however, of its Druidical character. Although it has now lost its vibrating power, being propped up by stones, the pivot is easily discernible.

From The Scottish Journal, 1848.

I’ve been puzzling about this, because there must be (or was) a stone called the Deil’s Cradle very near to this. I’ve been scouring the 25” maps without success, though the Wizard’s Stone is marked. Yet the WS, with all due respect, doesn’t look very exciting. It gets marked, while the infinitely more peculiar sounding Cradle sadly does not. I figure ‘Burngrens’ below is another version of ‘Burngrange’, which is on current maps – about a spit from the WS. If you were in the area and took a wander along the burn, you might find the stone yet? There’s a Grey (or Gray) Stone marked at Lawhill Farm, which is very close by too. But Coflein declines to comment on any of the three.

The “Deil’s Cradle.”
On the confines of the parish of Dollar, not far from Hillfoot, the seat of John McArthur Moir, Esq., lies a glen, called Burngrens, watered by a small stream, and planted with numerous large trees. A great number of these, however, have fallen, during the last few years, beneath the unsparing axe; but strong, healthy saplings are rising rapidly to supply their place.

In this glen there is a large stone, of peculiar formation, in every way like a cradle. It is currently believed by the superstitious in the vicinity, that the stone, every Hallowe’en night, is raised from its place, and suspended in the air by some unseen agency, while “Old Sandy,” snugly seated upon it, is swung backwards and forwards by his adherents, the witches, until daylight warns them to decamp.

The following rather curious affair is told in connection with the “Cradle:”

One Hallowe’en night a young man, who had partaken somewhat freely of the intoxicating cup, boasted before a few of his companions that he would, unaccompanied, visit the stone. Providing himself with a bottle, to keep his courage up, he accordingly set out. The distance not being great, he soon reached his destination. After a lusty pull at the bottle, he sat down upon the “Cradle,” boldly determined to dispute the right of possession, should his Satanic majesty appear to claim his seat. Every rustle of a leaf, as the wind moaned through the glen, seemed to our hero as announcing the approach of the enemy, and occasioned another application to fortifying “bauld John Barleycorn.” Overpowered at last by repeated potations, our hero, dreaming of “Auld Nick,” and his cohort of “rigwuddie hags,” fell sound asleep upon the stone.

His companions, who had followed him, now came forward. With much shouting and noise, they laid hold of him, one by the head and another by the feet, and carrying him, half-awake, to the burn, dipped him repeatedly, accompanying each immersion with terrific yells. The poor fellow, thinking a whole legion of devils were about him, was almost frightened to death, and roared for mercy so piteously that his tormentors thought proper to desist. No sooner had our hero gained his feet than he rushed up the glen, and ran home, resolving never to drink more, or attempt such a feat again. For many a long day he was ignorant who his tormentors really were.

We stood upon the stone about a week ago. Ivy and moss are slowly mantling over it, a proof that it is some considerable time since the Devil has been rocked on it.

J.C.

From The Scottish Journal, 1847.

Centuries ago, these hills were covered to their very summits with trees, consisting of pine, birch, hazel, but principally oak. Several trunks of this durable wood, black and hard as ebony, have been discovered deeply imbedded in the peat mosses which about there.

Wolves, boars, and other wild animals, were the inhabitants of this forest. Sometimes large troops of them, urged by hunger, left their haunts, and descending to the low grounds, spread devastation and dismay on every hand. Tradition tells of a boar, of huge size, which committed so many depradations, that the people complained to their king (Malcolm Canmore), who appointed a day for a grand hunting match, to destroy the boar.

The King, with a few attendants, took up a position on the top of a hill, still called the “King’s Seat,” there to await the issue of the hunt, while different parties beat the haunts of the animal. They were about giving up the search as fruitless, when the boar was discovered. Away through the forest dashed pursuers and pursued.

A youth, armed with a bow and quiver, and a short sword, outstripped the rest of the hunters. Three arrows from his hand had already pierced the bristly sides of the boar; but before another could be drawn, it turned upon its pursuer, and rushing towards him, bore him to the ground, inflicting a severe wound upon his breast. It was about to attack him again, when the huntsman drew his sword, and sheathed it in the body of the monster. The thrust was mortal, and it fell.

After cutting off the head of the boar, the youth, all bleeding, made his way to where the King sat – threw the grisly trophy at his feet, and immediately afterwards expired. But, as regards this,

“I cannot tell how the truth may be,
I say the tale as ‘twas said to me.”

J.C.
13, Dalrymple Place,
Edinburgh.

In The Scottish Journal, 1847.

Much giant related folklore connected with the broch:
The Scottish Journal, 1847.

The distance of the Hall from the Whitadder on the north, was two hundred yards, down a very steep bank. There is a deep hollow on the west, with a small run of water in it. This place has been sometimes called Woden, or Odin’s Hall, but for what purpose it was erected nobody can tell. It is now completely levelled with the soil, and most of the stones have been removed. In the tradition of the neighbourhood, Edin’s Hall is said to have been the residence of a giant – and Cockburn-Law, on the northern slope of which it stood, is reputed to have been the last place where the Picts made a determined stand in Scotland! G.H.

Transactions of the Hawick Archaeological Society, 1863.

The country people in this neighbourhood call it Edin’s Hold and Wodin’s Hall, and ascribe its erection to a freebooting giant, who long carried on a successful system of depredation, and shut up in this his place of power, effectually screened himself from the hands of justice

Proceedings at Meetings of the Royal Archaeological Institute, 1869.

..Edin’s Hall, which at that time present little beyond a green mound, with a little rough masonry visible here and there, in the centre of an extensive system of earthworks. Local tradition connected them with a certain giant who, “once upon a time,” made it his abode, and lived, as giants were wont to do, on his neighbours. Returning one day with a bull over his shoulders, he was incommoded by a pebble in his shoe, and jerked it to the side of the opposite hill, where it is still to be seen in the form of a good-sized boulder.

From Chambers’s Journal, v1 (1854).

The history of the building is totally unknown. The ordinary name is Eetin’s Hald; though usually presented in books as Edin’s Hall or Ha’. Antiquaries speculate on its having been a palace of Edwin, king of Northumbria in the seventh century – the same prince from who Edinburgh is supposed (altogether gratuitously) to have taken its name.

It is to be feared that here an obvious meaning of the name has been overlooked. The Etin, in old Scottish tradition, is a giant (from the Danish Jetten:) thus we hear in our early national literature, of the tale of the Red Etin. Sir David Lyndsay, in his Dreme, speaks of having amused the infancy of King James V. with ‘tales of the Red Etin and Gyre-carling.‘

Considering that the people of Lammermuir have a fireside story representing Eetin’s Hald as having been anciently the abode of a giant, who lived upon the cattle of his neighbours, and did not always respect their own persons – whose leap, too, they shew in a narrow part of the streamlet near by – it is rather strange that the name of the place has not been detected as meaning merely the Giant’s Hold.

From Robert Chambers‘ Popular Rhymes of Scotland (1826). There’s more about this giant in a later edition here, as well.

The red-etin is a monstrous personage, supposed by the common people to be so named on account of his insatiable penchant for red or raw flesh. [...] He is still a popular character in Scotland, and is supposed to go about searching for what he may devour, and constantly exclaiming, as in the story of Jack and the Bean Stack,
Snouk Butt, Snouk Ben,
I find the smell of Earthly men.

Snouk signifies, to search for with the nose like a dog or hog, and here communicates a dreadful idea of the personal habits of the Red-etin.

This typed compilation of information about the souterrain comes from the Highland HER. It seems that the names of the clans responsible for bad behaviour / revenge are fairly loose. I guess it depends on the ancestry of who’s telling the tale.

An excerpt from a booklet written in the 1970s says:

The cave [..] is thought to have formed a refuge for persecuted worshippers at various times in its history. There is also an old legend that it was built by giants while giantesses carried the soil to the River Spey in their aprons.

Again there’s the curious assertion that the cave was only discovered in the Victorian era, yet it’s simultaneously stated it was used after the Jacobite rising of 1745! Remember, things do not really exist until a Victorian man belonging to an Intellectual Society has looked at things Properly.

From a name of a farm in the immediate vicinity -- Dunree, in Gaelic Dun-righ, signifying the king’s stronghold -- it is inferred that the fort was distinguished by a royal appellative.

[..] In former times, Cassillis Downans was regarded as a favourite haunt of the fairies of Ayrshire, and a popular tradition still exists illustrative of their peculiar attachment to the locality. The old house of Cassillis, it is said, was originally intended to have occupied a site on the top of the hill, but the fairies were so much opposed to this that they invariably demolished at night what had been built during the day -- removing the stones and other material to the spot where the castle now stands -- until the proprietor, convinced of the folly of contending with his invisible opponents, at length gave up the contest.

From The Scottish Journal, 1847.

The Devil’s Stane.
This is a large rock which stands in the middle of a cultivated field near the parish church of Kemnay, Aberdeenshire, and which, tradition affirms, the Devil threw at the church from the neighbouring mountain of Bennachie, in order to revenge the good deeds of the parish priest.

A note to accompany a poem about the stone, in The Scottish Journal, 1847. It sounds like a good bit of geological speculation – the Boulder Committee of the Royal Society of Edinburgh say

there is a boulder of grey granite, called the Devil’s Stone, estimated to weigh about 250 tons, which lies not far from the old kirk. There is no rock of that nature in Kemnay parish, but there is at Bennachie, a hill about seven or eight miles to the westward.

The photos on the Megalithic Portal suggest this place is rather superb. Far from being discovered in 1835 (as the Canmore record suggests), this souterrain must surely have been known for long before that? The story is a bit wordy but bear with me.

In the time of the later Jameses, a noted freebooter of the name of Cumming, with his eleven sons, was the scourge of Strathspey and the more distant glens of Perthshire, and long baffled the feeble efforts of the law.

An artificial cave, the retreat of the band, is still entire, and is known locally as “Uamh Mor,” the great cave or den. It is cut in the face of a green hill, about a mile and a half east from Kingussie [...]. The cave is crescent-shaped, and about fifty feet from end to end; and, as the soil is friable, it must have been formed with great difficulty.

At the centre, the width is about six feet, and the height about seven; but towards the western end, both height and breadth contract so much that, at the mouth, the space will only admit, by crawling eel-like, one man at a time. A few feet from this narrow entrance, the passage has been guarded by a strong door; and the boles built in the walls show that the bar must have been a tree of at least three feet in circumference: at the eastern end, the cave widens to a breadth of eight or nine feet, adn the roof is of about an equal height, so that a somewhat spacious chamber is formed. The walls of the cave are of large stones, rudely built together; the roof consists of a series of large flagstones stretching from wall to wall; and the floor is of earth or clay. To the centre of the cave there is a second entrance, by a flight of steps, that seems to have been concealed by a trap-door.

Cumming and his eleven sons were all, according to tradition, tall and powerful men; and the cave was formed by them in the night time; the earth, as it was thrown out, being carefully carried down the hill and cast into a deep dark pool of the Spey. The stones for the walls and the roof were brought from a higher part of the hill; and such was the strength of the sons, it is said, that only two of them were required to carry one of the great flagstones down the hill.

To save you from the waffling, I’ll summarise. The murderous Cummings finally wound up a Macpherson enough that he vowed to rumble them. He pretends to be a gravely ill beggar to gain admittance to the bothy (it’s not explained how he actually knows about the bothy). He notices the old women are baking far more bannocks than they can eat and realises they’re being transferred to the cave below. He dashes to Perth to call the authorities. The authorities haul them out one at a time and don’t even bother with a trial, they just despatch them there and then. Which seems rather unfair. But there is an afterword:

This is the story told by tradition, and I give it without attempting to prove its truth. I have, however, visited the cave; and the story was told to me as I sat within the dark, grave-like, chamber.

I may add that, to this day, according to the belief of the district, the descendants of the Macpherson who betrayed the Cummings are troubled with the disease, the pains of which were feigned by their predecessor.

Reported by J.C.P. in The Scottish Journal in 1847.

Druidical Temples in Scotland.
Severeal of the Druids’ places of worship are still to be seen in the Highlands. [..] In our own neighbourhood, above Dochmaluag, there is a pretty large one, the stones of which, it is maintained by many of the peasants in the district, are said to have been, at one time, human beings, which were overtaken with judgment for dancing on the Sabbath day, and that the position of the stones exactly corresponds with the different attitudes of the dancers. Hence the name Clachan Gorach, or foolish stones. -- Rossshire Advertiser.

Quoted in The Scottish Journal, 1847.

This bump in the landscape seems to consist of Spy Knowe (crowned by a cairn) and the slightly higher top of Green Hill. This area’s landscape features in the Ayrshire ballad ‘The Laird o’ Changue’, which is reproduced here in the Scottish Journal (issue 3, 1847). The notes explain some folklore associated with the top of (what I infer to be) this hill. I am resisting any unwarranted comparisons with the shape of cup and ring marks.

On the conical top of the green hill of Craganrarie, where the indomitable Changue took up his position, are two foot-prints, which tradition asserts to be his, indented deeply in the surface, and around which, at about a sword’s length from the centre, are the “two rings” or circles which he drew around him, also strongly marked in the sward. Neither on them, nor on the foot-prints, does the grass ever grow, although it thrives luxuriantly around the very edges of the mysterious markings.

Canmore’s record notes that a Langdale/Scafell greenstone axe was found close by the hill in the 1920s.

About half-a-mile above the old churchyard, in a field by the roadside, are two large upright stones, known as “the Standing Stones of Orwell.” They are placed east and west of each other about fifteen yards apart – that to the west is flat, and about six feet in height – the one to the east is of a round form, tapering slightly to the ground, and stands nine feet high. The latter, although still of considerable size, has lost somewhat of its circumference within the last ten years, and, at the present moment, there is a large crack down one side, which, by the action of the weather, will lead to a further diminution of its bulk. It has not been ascertained to what depth these stones are embedded in the earth, but it must be considerable, in order to retain them in the position they occupy.

The common belief is, that these stones are of Danish origin, erected in commemoration of a victory, or to mark the spot where those who had fallen in battle were interred. This supposition is so far countenanced by the fact that a stone coffin, of large size, was found on digging up the space between the stones. Similar coffins have also been turned up in the same field, and, ten or twelve years ago, the ground was dug up in several places by a neighbouring proprietor, when large quantities of bones, much decomposed and mixed with charcoal, were discovered.

[...] Plausible as this [Danish] theory is, it nevertheless can scarcely be supposed that the Danes would be disposed to waste so much time in their marauding incursions, as the conveyance and erection of these stones would require, and the more especially as, during the time that they were so employed, they would be constantly exposed to the attacks of th enatives, who would be afforded ample time to gather in force, and who by no means relished the presence of such visitors. Moreover, had these been Danish monuments, they would, in all probability, have been overturned by the natives the moment that the invaders turned their backs. The most probable conclusion is , that both these stones, and those at Lundin, which are of much greater height, formed part of Druidic circles, and it is only by adopting some such conclusion that we can account for their preservation to the present time.

A healthy dose of scepticism from ‘W.H.’, in ‘The Scottish Journal‘ (issue 3, 1847).

I’m imagining this must be the place referred to by Thomas Pennant in his 1778 description of the battle of Coleshill. Maybe it’s a traditional idea. I can’t see mention of the names elsewhere, but the location fits the bill in the area? He says

.. the wise prince retired to a plain near St. Asaph, still called Cil-Owen, or Owen’s retreat; and from thence to a strong post, named Bryn y Pin, defended by great ramparts and ditches. This camp lies in the parish of St. George, on a lofty rock above the church, and is now called Pen y Parc.

The ‘wise prince’ is Owen Gwynedd, who is up against Henry II. According to Giraldus Cambrensis (writing relatively shortly after the 12th century battle) the triumph of the Welsh, who had a much smaller army, was down to the bad behaviour of Henry’s troops, who had been burning Welsh churches – divine retribution. But maybe it was actually due to the Welsh giving the English a good kicking due to superior tactics.

Mentioned by Thomas Pennant reporting on his 1773 Tour in Wales.

I must not pass unnoticed a strong British post, which soars above the road, about two miles [from Llys Edwin]. It lies on the summit of a hill, and is surrounded with a great foss and dike of a circular form [...] This post is called Moel y Gaer, or the hill of the fortress [...]

In later times, this spot proved fatal to a valiant partizan of Owen Glendwr. Howel Gwynedd was surprized in a negligent hour, within this post, and there beheaded.

Donkeys do have quite dainty feet, but even so, this first snippet perhaps supports the idea the holes are a bit big for human-created rock art. But that they require supernatural explanation is interesting in itself.

Here in Northumberland [pot holes] are the hoof-marks of a devil as at Birtley, or basins formed by Queen Mab and her train for bathing in, as tradition pleasingly narrates, at Rothley. The soul has almost gone out of such legends now, but time was when they were of earnest import to mankind.

The Rev. G. R. Hall, F.S.A., has told the Birtley legend in a former Volume of these Transactions. A wandering demon, once upon a time, was unwary enough to drink at the Holy Well. But the sacred water disagreed with him like molten lead, and dashing his hoofs upon the stone he leaped a full mile from the spot. He alighted upon the rock beside the Leap Crag Pool in the North Tyne; in which deep black hole “tradition averreth he was drowned.” At the Holy Well the tracks are about the size of a small donkey’s, if I dare use the comparison, and consist of several pairs as if the miserable being had waxed fidgetty; beside the pool they swell to the size of an elephant’s.

From a very long article called ‘Tynedale Escarpments’ by Hugh Miller, inNatural History Transactions of Northumberland, volume 7, 1877-79.

But if the marks are natural, the stone doesn’t sound near the water? It’s all rather unclear. Oh to nip up in the Van to check, it being a fine Sunday in (almost) summer.

The Birtley Halywell, or Holy Well, a chalybeate spring, issuing from the face of the sandstone cliff, amidst the ferns, harebells, heather, and other flowers that adorn its interstices, close to the romantic waterfall of the Holywell Burn, and to the curious so-called Devil’s Stone, or Rock, in the near neighbourhood also of two ancient British camps, or oppida, is worthy of special mention among the medicinal wells of North Tynedale.

Though I cannot learn that any particular reverence was formerly shown to this well, which now merely trickles down the ochreous sides of the cliff, at Midsummer, yet I find that people “from far and near” used until recently to visit it on fine Sunday afternoons in summer, and itinerant vendors of refreshments from the village, which is about a mile distant, were wont to be present on the spot. Here, in close proximity, still exists the great upright, weather-worn monolith-- apparently a detached fragment split from the adjacent rock by some natural convulsion --already spoken of as the Devil’s Stone. Tradition asserts this to have been, “once upon a time,” the scene of a Satanic leap, the very “hoof-marks” being yet visible on its altar-like summit in the shape of what geologists would call “pot holes” -- a leap intended to result in the demon’s descent at Lee Hall, on the opposite bank of the river, about half a mile distant; but the interval not having been carefully estimated, the consequence was a fall into the deepest abyss of North Tyne, just below the Countess Park Clints -- thence called the “Leap-Crag Pool,” where the Satanic personage is said to have been drowned!

From Archaeologia Aeliana volume 8 (1880), in an article called ‘Notes on Modern Survivals of Ancient Well-Worship in North Tynedale..” by the Rev. G. Rome Hall.

On ‘Barrow No. 1.’, the largest barrow:

A tradition, which I first heard during the progress of our excavations, was known to a former shepherd’s wife, an aged dame, who had often spoken to her family of her desire to dig into the great mound in search of “the treasure of silver” said to be secreted in this great fairy knoll, so like the Gaelic ”shian” associated with the hero Ossian. Children of the cottage have since told me they had often danced upon it and heard something “rattle and jingle” beneath their feet. Strange it is that the old dame’s wish had not long ago been gratified; but, deterred by superstitious feeling, the mystery of the cairn remained unrevealed.

From the 1887 Archaeologia Aeliana article “Recent explorations in ancient British barrows, containing cup-marked stones, near Birtley, North Tynedale”, by the Rev. G. Rome Hall.

Another and seemingly older interpretation of the name:

Oaks of a great size, firm and sound, have been taken out of a large moss on Bewick-Moor, called King‘s Moss, by the road from Chillingham to Alnwick, near a noted aperture in a freestone-rock, called Catherine‘s cave.

From ‘The Natural History and Antiquities of Northumberland‘, v1, by John Wallis (1769).

And for another version of the story about bold adventurers exploring the tunnel, it’s rather fun to see George Tate himself do the retelling, in The Border Magazine, November 1863.

The rocks are marked on old maps at NH628437, a short distance from the cairn. There is a well marked close by on the modern OS map, which is conceivably the same mentioned below? Or maybe the water runs straight from the rock?

Above the Inverness District Asylum, and immediately below the ascent to Craig Dunain, is “Fuaran a Chragain Bhric,” or the Well of the Spotted Rock. This was in former times a place of great resort, the waters, among other healing virtues, being supposed to be strongly diuretic. The bushes around were adorned with rags and threads; while pebbles, pins, and shells might be observed in the bottom of the spring. We have seen one juniper bush close by so loaded with rags and threads as to be hardly distinguishable. This was also a fairy well, and if a poor mother had a puny, weak child, which she supposed had been left by the fairies in place of her own, by exposing it here at night, and leaving some small offering, as a dish of milk, to propitiate the king of fairyland, the bantling would be carried off, and in the morning she would find her own, and restored in health.

-Alex Fraser, Northern Folklore on Wells and Water, p. 17.

Quoted by R C Hope in the Antiquary, v 1 (1880).

Another description comes from Reminiscences of a Clachnacuddin Nonagenarian (1886, but written 1830), which also mentions another well with an alleged druidic collection with the stones at Leachkin.

Fuaran a’ Chragan Bhreic, or Well of the Spotted Rock,
which forms an apt description, as the spring is situatednear a mass of rock, spotted with various specimens of moss. The water is said to be strongly diuretic, and used to be as much thought of, and resorted to by the inhabitants of Inverness, as now are the wells at Strathpeffer. A juniper bush grows beside the spring, and the mossy hillocks about it afford a seat to the tired pedestrian, whence he obtains a panoramic view of Inverness and the Moray Firth, which well repays the fatigue of the walk and ascent from the town.

The last celebrated spring in Inverness, which remains for us to notice is
Fuaran Ault an Ionnlaid, or Well of the Anointing Burn.

This is situated on the estate of Muirtown, opposite the toll-gate, and immediately below Craig Phadric. Tradition states, that Montrose, while being conveyed a prisoner from Sutherlandshire to Edinburgh, on passing this well, begged of his guards to unloose him from the horse to which he was tied, and allow him to quench his thirst at this well. The request was complied with, and the noble prisoner expressed the great relief and refreshment which it afforded him.

Above Leaken, and between this well and the one previously mentioned, are the remains of a Druidical temple, and it is said the Anointing Well derived its appellation from the circumstance of the Druidical priests resorting to it to bathe and anoint themselves previously to engaging in their solemn religious rites. Like the other springs before specified, this fountain was celebrated for the wonderfully curative effect of its waters, until about 1730, when a soldier’s wife is said to have therein washed her child afflicted with scurvy, since which the healing properties of the Annointing Well have forsaken the fluid. [...] The late proprietor, Colonel Duff, had inscribed upon the neat stone-work that protects the spot, the following words:--
Luci Fontisque Nymphis.

Somewhere nearby there was another stone with child-related fairy folklore. Canmore summaries its mention in a journal from 1885:

The hollow stone lies on the summit on the ridge of Leachkin above the Mental Hospital. The stone is flat and hollow in the centre [and] resembles in size and shape a child’s coffin. The greater part remains but the foot is broken or weathered away. At one end it used to be hooded over like a cradle and was known variously as Cradle-stone and Clach-na-shia (Fairies’ stone).

Alas the OS could not find it in 1962. But I would hope that’s not a definitive end to the matter.

Archaeologia Cambrensis for 1889 has a translation of the 12th century confirmation charter of Strata Florida abbey. It mentions ‘the Grange which is called Castell y Flemmis’, so the name is clearly an old one. The c19th notes offer an explanation for the name: “a considerable encampment, supposed to have been formerly thrown up and occupied by the Flemings of Pembrokeshire”. Maybe that theory about the name draws onGiraldus Cambrensis‘s report of people from Flanders being settled in Wales.

Baring-Gould mentions another name in his ‘Lives of the British Saints’: Vuarth Caraun / Buarth Caron – meaning Caron’s cattle-fold. He says “at” Castell Fflemish, near Tregaron. But what else round here would act as a good cattle-fold? It must surely refer to the fort?

Caron is the patron of nearby Tregaron (Plwyf Caron).If you wanted, you could see mixed up in the story a barrow and a christianised site?

The local tradition, still curent, varies – that he was a prince, a brave chieftain, or a bishop – but it agrees in saying he was buried where the church tower now stands, and that over his grave a large mound was raised. We have here evidently traditions of two distinct persons, a chieftain and an ecclesiastic, who have become mixed up in the popular mind.

Back in Tregaron on the other side of the Teifi, there was and is his well:

His Holy Well there, Ffynnon Garon, was at Eastertide, in days gone by, a centre of great attraction for the young of both sexes. On Easter Eve crowds of children resorted thither, each one bringing a small mug or cup and a quantity of brown sugar, and drank copious draughts of the water sweetened with sugar. On Easter Day, or Low Sunday, the swains met their sweethearts at the spot, and made them gifts of white bread (bara can), which they ate, washing it down with the crystal spring water in token of affection.

On the other side of the rock (f) in fig. 9, Plate VII. is an exact circular hole, as is seen in fig. 11, Plate VIII.* which is a South view of the Tor. I found there was no possibility of getting near enough to examine this rock, but I should suppose, from the little channels on the other sides, that there are rock basons on the top.

There are many large rocks scattered about, which must have fallen from the top, where, when they stood erect, filling up every part of this elevated Tor, the effect must have been sublimely striking to the superstitious Britons, who had been taught to venerate those sacred rocks.

That the Druids had fixed upon this hill for the celebration of their religious rites, I think cannot be doubted; it was usual to inclose their places of worship, and here a fence of large rough stones now plainly appears to have surrounded the rocks near the bottom of the hill.

Some druidic imaginings in An Account of the Druidical Remains in Derbyshire. In a Letter to the Right Honourable Frederick Montague, FAS. By Hayman Rooke, Esq. FAS. In Archaeologia v12 (1796).

I cannot see (f) in fig. 9 here but I guess it’s the one right at the top.

(*seems to be labeled no.12, but that is my bad cropping of the picture.)

At the South-west end of Stanton moor, in the Peak, and in Hartle liberty, is an assemblage of rocks, which stand on the summit of a circular hill called Graned Tor, but more commonly known by the name of Mock Beggar’s Hall.

When I had the honour of communicating to the Society some years ago an account of the Druidical monuments in that neighbourhood, I had not an opportunity of examining this Tor with that accuracy which is necessary in the investigation of these ancient monuments; but having been since in the vicinity of these rocks, at the house of my worthy friend Bache Thornhill, esq. to whose politeness I am much indebted, I requently examined every accessible part of this Tor, and, notwithstanding the many large rocks that have fallen from the top, there is sufficient evidence of its having been a curious group of Druidical monuments.

Fig. 9, Pl. VII. is a North-west view of Graned Tor; the rock marked (a) with four rock basons, is 29 feet in circumference, and plainly appears, from its present position, to have fallen from the top. The three stones (b, c, d,) seem to have been placed by art, and the uppermost is, I think, very likely to be a rocking stone, but there was no possibility of getting near enough to make the experiment.

Whilst I was taking a drawing of this Tor, an old man who stood by, told me that he remembered when he was a boy, his grandfather’s pointing to the stone (b), and saying, it had always been called the Great Altar, and that several other rocks had names, but he had forgot what they were. We are led by traditional accounts to form probable conjectures; and, as the Heathens always placed their altars on their highest ground, there is great reason to suppose that this elevated rock was a Druidical altar.

At the bottom of the third rock from the top, marked (d), is a large rock bason of an oval shape, diameter 4 feet by 2 feet 10 inches, which evidently appears to be cut with a tool; the rock (e) is placed slopingly against the rock (d), and forms a kind of cavity, big enough to hold three or four people, in which is the rock bason above-mentioned.

Fig. 10 is a near view of this aperture, whence there is a very extensive prospect, of course well calculated for the purpose of divination.

Stone (a) is the one on the left with four big holes in it. Stone (b) is the highest on the right, with (c) and (d) beneath it, and (e) being the pointy one overlapping (d).

From An Account of the Druidical Remains in Derbyshire. In a Letter to the Right Honourable Frederick Montague, FAS. By Hayman Rooke, Esq. FAS. In Archaeologia v12 (1796).

There is in the Peak of Derbyshire a very remarkable rocking stone, called by the country people Robin Hood’s Mark; it stands on the edge of a declivity near the top of a hill on Ashover common, looking down upon Overton hall, an estate of Sir Joseph Banks, Bart. the respectable President of the Royal Society, who will undoubtedly preserve this curious Druidical monument.

Fig. 1. plate V. represents the South view of this rocking stone, which, from its extraordinary position, evidently appears not only to have been the work of art, but to have been placed with great ingenuity; the two upper stones (a and b) have been shaped to fit exactly with the two upright stones (c and d) on which they rest; and so artfully contrived, that the lower stone (b) moves with the upper stone (a). It measures about 26 feet in circumference.

That this is a Druidical monument formed by art, cannot, I think, be denied; we are assured that the Druids were well skilled in the art of magic, by which the superstitious Britons were led implicitly to believe in the miracles performed by these rocking stones.

At about two hundred yards North of this rocking stone, is a singular shaped rock called the turning stone. See fig. 2. plate V. It stands on the edge of a hill on Ashover common; height nine feet. It was a very ancient practice among the Britons to make three turns round their sacred rocks and fires, according to the course of the sun. Martin, in his account of the Western isles, says, “that in the Isle of Barry there is one stone about seven feet high, and when the inhabitants come near it, they take a religious turn round according to the ancient Druid custom.” Hence there is great reason to suppose, that the above-mentioned stone was a rock idol to whom the Druids offered up their devotional rites.

From ‘An Account of the Druidical Remains in Derbyshire. In a Letter to the Right Honourable Frederick Montague, FAS. By Hayman Rooke, Esq. FAS.’ In Archaeologia v12 (1796).

Of the Bolleit cave it is said that the roof will fall in and crush any one who remains there more than a certain number of minutes.

Just to cheer you up if you’re visiting. From Churches of West Cornwall by J T Blight (1885).

Edward Lhuyd gives us to understand that the parish church of Cellan, in Cardiganshire, which he writes “Keth-Lhan,” is dedicated to [St Callwen], and that there is a spring there called “Ffynnon Calhwen.” All Saints is the dedication now usually given to the church. On one of the mountains in the parish is a cistvaen called Bedd y Forwyn, the Virgin’s Grave.

Maybe this is the right place. Coflein doesn’t mention the name. But The Cambrian Traveller’s Guide says “Upon the mountain to the N. of the river Frwd, are two beddau or graves; and on an eminence to the S. are two more, one of which is called Bedd-y-forwyn, or the Virgin’s Grave.” So it’s in the right sort of place.
Edward Llwyd was writing in the 17th century.