Latest Folklore

... a few are inclined to believe that the [cairn] on the mountain above the Church must be Carnedd Illog, owing to its proximity to Illog’s Well, and other names connected with [the saint’s] name; while others point to the one on the highest eminence on Croes-forwyn, as the identical one. This is known as “Y garn”, the cairn, the chief of the cains, near which is a stone called “Carreg y tair Eglwys”, the stone of the three churches, from which the old people of the neighbourhood were wont to assemble on a Sunday morning, to know which of the three church bells, Llanwddyn, Llanfihangel, or Hirnant, could be heard most distinctly on the occasion, and to obey the call of such a one, by attending Divine Service at that particular church.

It is customary, to this day, to ring the church bells of the above parishes at 9 o’clock, an hour before commencement of the service, and formerly there were three ringings, at intervals of an hour.

From Collections historical and archaeological relating to Montgomeryshire and its borders (1868).

Coflein calls it “A stone, 1.4m long, inclined at an acute angle to the ground, in a hollow by a mounain track.”

The few small stones now remaining of this carnedd stand on the boundary between the farms of Bwlch sych and Ty Croes, the present wire fence which divides the lands passing over the stones. – Visited, 7th September, 1910.

In the year 1880, this carnedd was described as being “about 82 feet in circumference, worked very irregularly with stones pitched on edge in the inner course, while the outer one was evidently built of stone and mould intermixed for a certain height” (Mont. Coll. 1880, xiii, 53). The father-in-law of the present occupier was for some weeks engaged in carting the stones from this carnedd for building purposes. While so engaged he came across “an old kettle, or an urn, containing a quantity of ashes, with something like cinders.” nothing is now known of this receptacle. The writer of the above article continues: “One side of this cairn was opened about half-a-century ago [circa 1830], when a stone chest was discovered, which was robbed of its contents during the time that intervened between the first discovery and the time it was removed.”

“It was always believed in the neighbourhood that vast booty was stored up in this huge cairn; and treasure hunters, from time to time, had made fruitless attempts to discover the same, for the more they worked, and the nearer they went, as it was supposed, to the spoil, invariably, a most terrific thunderstorm came on, and this was also the case when the chest was discovered, which was the cause of its being partly exposed for several days, before the late Thomas Jones of Cwmfedw took a pair of horses, and with the aid of strong chains contrived to remove the slab, and had it taken to cover the culvert by the old Methodist Chapel, where it still lies, doing a most serviceable work under the main road” (Mont. Coll., 1880, xiii, 54).

From An inventory of the ancient and historical monuments of the county of Montgomery (1911).

One of a number of locations across the Staffordshire Moorlands reputed by local lore to have been the site of a great battle in ancient times (Longnor and Illam are two others that spring to mind). In one version of the legend the battle was between Romans and a local tribe, in another between the (Christian) Mercian Saxons and the (Pagan) Danes.

Therefore it has been said that the burial mound on Callow Hill known as Cat Low is the final resting place of a great warrior/leader/King or even Centurian. who fell in combat at that battle. Perhaps that helps to explain why it has been excavated so often.

Fairy fans will find this quoted around the internet, although I don’t think it’s particularly clear what Aubrey means, or that most of it particularly relates to Hackpen Hill:

That the Fairies would steale away young children and putt others in their places; verily believed by old woemen of those dayes: and by some yet living.

Some were led away by the Fairies, as was a Hind riding upon Hakpen with corne, led a dance to ye Devises. So was a shepherd of Mr. Brown, of Winterburn-Basset: but never any afterwards enjoy themselves. He sayd that ye ground opened, and he was brought into strange places underround, where they used musicall Instruments, violls, and Lutes, such (he sayd) as Mr. Thomas did play on.

Just to be on the safe side though, keep a eye out up here. From Remains of Gentilisme and Judaisme by John Aubrey (1686-7), edited by James Britten and published 1881.

[In the village] we vainly endeavoured to procure a guide to what a good woman we talked with called “Piskie House,” on the side of Sheep’s Tor. Piskie House is a natural fissure, or narrow cavern amongst the rocks, where Elford the royalist [...] was said to take shelter for a considerable time, to avoid the pursuit of Cromwell’s troopers. One little boy told me he was afraid to go there; and his mother truly said “That it was a critical place for children.”

[...] Aloft amidst the most confused masses of rock, that looked as if they had been tossed about by the fiends in battle, in a place which seemed (so it appeared to me at least) as if inaccessible to any mortal creatuer, there was seen a somewhat projecting stone like a pent-house. Beneath was a cleft between two low rocks. This is the entrance to the palace of the Pixies, and the cavern where Elford is said to ahve found a retreat from persecution [...] How Elford could live there; how food could be conveyed to him, or how any living thing but a raven, a crow, or an eagle could make his home in such a spot, is to me, I confess, a puzzle; and had not the paintings on the interior sides of the rocks, executed by Elford, been really seen in these latter days to bear witness to the fact, I should have doubted the tradition altogether.

[... an excerpt from Mr Bray’s diary of 1802] On reaching the little hamlet of Sheepstor, we were informed by the matron of it, whom from her age and appearance we denominated the Septuagenarian Sibyl, that we might easily find out the ‘pixies’ house, where we should be careful to leave a pin, or something of equal value, as an offering to these invisible beings; otherwise they would not fail to torment us in our sleep. After thanking the good dame for her advice and information, we proceeded in search of it. [...] With a little boy for our guide, we again ascended the mountain. Leaving our horses below, we followed our conductor over some rugged rocks, till he came to one in which was a narrow fissure. On telling us this was the entrance we laughed, and said none but the pixies and himself could enter it; but, on his assuring us it was the spot, I resolved to make the attempt. With great difficulty I succeeded, and found a hollow about six feet long, four wide, and five feet high. It was formed by two rocks resting in a slanting position against another in a perpendicular direction. The cavity was certainly singularly regular, and had somewhat the form of a little hovel. A rock served for a seat, and the posture of sitting was the only one in which I could find myself at ease. A noise occasioned by the dripping of water is distinctly heard; and as the cause of it is out of sight, it produces at first a sensation somewhat approaching to surprise, till reflection tells us the occasion of it: which might possibly have prepared the mind to imagine it the resort of invisible beings.

The Rev. Mr. Polwhele, in his Devon, notices it, and in a note gives the following extract from a correspondent. “Here, I am in formed, Elford used to hide himself from the search of Cromwell’s party, to whom he was obnoxious. Hence he could command the whole country; and having some talents for painting, he amused himself with that art on the walls of his cavern, which I have been told (says Mr. Yonge of Puslinch) by an elderly gentleman who had visited this place, was very fresh in his time. The country people have many superstitious notions respecting this hole.” None of the paintings now remain on the sides of the rock.

From p v3 102, 108 and v1 p233-5 of ‘Traditions, legends, superstitions and sketches of Devonshire..’ by Anna Eliza Stothard (Bray), 1838.

Mark Beeson at Dartmoor Resource has some more information on Mr Elford, and you can see a carving said to be by him at the local church.
Dartmoor Cam shows you where it is (complete with infuriating tupperware), and The Faery Folklorist has some nice bright shots of the entrance.

Like many other works whose origin is obscured in the dim and distant past, Birrenswark Hill was regarded with something of superstitious awe. An old man brought up in the vicinity told the writer that in is boyhood the hill was regarded as an uncanny place. Few were bold enough to stroll there on Sundays or after sun-down, and against such practices his mother frequently gave him solemn warning. Some, he said, thought the ancient Britons or the Romans had something to do with these inexplicable earthworks; but the common belief was that another potent influence had a hand in the matter, who, desirous not to have his part detected, visits with elemental manifestations of displeasure such as come there to howk for hidden treasure.

The profound present-day scepticism makes no allowance for such wanderings in superstition as these, but some measure of excuse is properly due in circumstances unusual which may sometimes occur. The writer having occasion to visit the hill for the purpose of conferring with an officer of the Society of Antiquaries of Scotland, on reaching the south camp, found the place wholly enveloped in a desne fog, and no one could be seen. Shortly, however, conversation was overheard, and the desired meeting ensued. The effect of the mist was curious and interesting. Normal dimensions disappeared, and the ramparts, ditches, and other details loomed hugely, gigantic and undefined. The writer seemed to perceive also fitful movements of something without shape or substance, and, whether preceding, accompanying or following, the motion had some sort of relation to his own – a rare phenomenon which arose from a quick flash of light from the sun casting trembling and uncertainshadows on the yet partially dense body of the mist. When the mist quickly unrolled, the sun broke out, and the whole place was bathed in the bright sunlight of the fully opened day.

And I think that’s as close as he’ll come to admitting he was a little freaked out. From James Barbour’s account of Agricola’s Well on Birrenswark Hill, in the 1911/12 Transactions and Journal of the Proceedings of the Dumfriesshire and Galloway Natural History and Antiquarian Society.

This little area near Foel and Garthbeibio has / had quite a few stoney and watery things of interest.

The cairn is where the Afon Banwy and the Afon Twrch converge. I’m guessing it’s the one mentioned here. A couple of pages on another cairn is mentioned (Cae’r Dentyr Cairn) which was very nearby, and the stones from that were taken for the nearby bridge.

Also close by was an immense stone, ‘Y Maen Llwyd’ (the story is told at Llymystyn Camp, where it was apparently thrown from), but this was regrettably broken up in the early 19th century to help make a wall.

There are three wells: Ffynnon Ddu (on the lane on the way to St Tydecho’s church); Ffynnon Rhigos (‘formerly of repute “in healing the eyes.” The water, sweetened with sugar, used to be drunk by the parishioners upon certain feasts‘); and St Tydecho’s Well itself: ‘This is now filled up, and the water diverted to a drain which runs down to the high road below St. Tydecho’s church. “There was once an image of the saint’s head, in stone, placed at the northern side of the well; but some vandals, having no regard for remains of antiquity, nor even respect for common decency, threw it away; and the last heard of it was a plaything on the side of the river among some children, who, in the end, threw it in, and no more was heard of it” (Mont. Coll. 1873, vi, 13). Parishioners yet survive who remember persons coming to bathe in this well, which was of reputed efficacy for the cure of rheumatism.‘

Standing stone, celtic christianity, holy water, cairns, a confluence, a disembodied head? It’s tempting to put all these romantic notions together and conclude this was quite a special location. (and maybe make 2+2=5 of course).

A field on the farm of Maes Teran, and bordering on Ffridd Wyllt. Here is a small grey stone or boulder, 3 feet above ground and 12 feet in girth, which, it is said locally, “was pitched there by the strong man from Cader Idris.” – Visited 7th June, 1910.

From An inventory of the ancient and historical monuments of the county of Montgomery (1911).

At Crieff, in Perthshire, there occurs a series of low hills running parallel to the Grampians. These hills consist of old red sandstone and greywacke. On one of them, the Cnock, the village of Crieff is built. Upon the south-east side of this hill, towards the southern extremity, not far from the summit, there are deposited a number of boulder stones of syenitic granite. The largest of these is called the cradlestone. It is nearly spherical, quite smooth on the surface, and 29 feet in circumference. It has been split in two by lightning, (according to the tradition of the place,) and one of the fragments has made one complete revolution down the hill and then stopped. The weight of this boulder is about 30 tons. The nearest mountains of syenitic granite, are those in the neighbourhood of Bennevis, distant more than 60 miles north-west [...]

In Thomas Thomson’s ‘Outlines of mineralogy, geology and mineral analysis‘ volume 2, 1836.

Ua-var, as the name is pronounced, or more properly Uaighmor, is a mountain to the north-east of the village of Callender in Menteith, deriving its name, which signifies the great den, or cavern, from a sort of retreat among the rocks on the south side, said, by tradition, to have been the abode of a giant. In latter times, it was the refuge of robbers and banditti, who have been only extirpated within these forty or fifty years. Strictly speaking, this stronghold is not a cave, as the name would imply, but a sort of small enclosure, or recess, surrounded with large rocks, and open above head. It may have been originally designed as a toil for deer, who might get in from the outside, but would find it difficult to return. This opinion prevails among the old sportsmen and deer-stalkers in the neighbourhood.

From an appendix to ‘The lady of the lake in six cantos‘ by Walter Scott (1835). Uamh Mhor is marked just to the south of Uamh Bheag.

[The previous poem’s description] of the Duergar corresponds exactly with the following Northumbrian legend, with which i was lately favoured by my learned and kind friend, Mr. Surtees of Mainsforth, who has bestowed indefatigable labour upon the antiquities of the English Border counties. The subject is in itself so curious, that the length of the note will, I hope, be pardoned.

“I have only one record to offer of the appearance of our Northumbrian Duergar. My narratrix is Elizabeth Cockburn, an old wife of Offerton, in this county, whose credit, in a case of this kind, will not, I hope, be much impeached, when I add, that she is, by her dull neighbours, supposed to be occasionally insane, but, by herself, to be at those times endowed with a faculty of seeing visions, and spectral appearances, which shun the common ken.

“In the year before the great rebellion, two young men from Newcastle were sporting on the high moors above Elsdon, and after pursuing their game several hours, sat down to dine in a green glen, near one of the mountain streams. After their repast, the younger lad ran to the brook for water, and after stooping to drink, was surprised, on lifting his head again, by the appearance of a brown dwarf, who stood on a crag covered with brackens, across the burn.

This extraordinary personage did not appear to be above half the stature of a common man, but was uncommonly stout and broad-built, having the appearance of vast strength. His dress was entirely brown, the colour of the brackens, and his head covered with frizzled red hair. His countenance was expressive of the most savage ferocity, and his eyes glared like a bull.

It seems he addressed the young man first, threatening him with his vengeance, for having trespassed on his demesnes, and asking him if he knew in whose presence he stood? The youth replied, that he now supposed him to be the lord of the moors; that he offended through ignorance; and offered to bring him the game he had killed. The dwarf was a little mollified by this submission, but remarked, that nothing could be more offensive to him than such an offer, as he considered the wild animals as his subjects, and never failed to avenge their destruction. He condescended further to inform him, that he was, like himself, mortal, though of years far exceeding the lot of common humanity; and (what I should not have had an idea of) that he hoped for salvation. He never, he added, fed on anything that had life, but lived, in the summer, on whortle-berries, and in winter, on nuts and apples, of which he had great store in the woods.

Finally, he invited his new acquaintance to accompany him home, and partake his hospitality; an offer which the youth was on the point of accepting, and was just going to spring across the brook, (Which if he had done, says Elizabeth, the dwarf would certainly have torn him in pieces,) when his foot was arrested by the voice of his companion, who thought he had tarried long: and on looking round again, ‘the wee brown man was fled.’ The story adds, that he was imprudent enough to slight the admonition, and to sport over the moors on his way homewards: but soon after his return, he fell into a lingering disorder, and died within the year.”

This is from one of the appendices in ‘ The Lady of the Lake in Six Cantos‘ by Walter Scott (1835) but I believe it’s also told in volume 4 of Surtees’ History of Durham.

A curious superstition (says a Somersetshire correspondent) has come to light in Mid-Somerset. It seems that the labouring classes in that locality, like those of most other rural districts in England, hold or held sacred certain supposed prophecies of “Mother Shipton,” whose topographical knowledge, if we are to believe all that is said of her, must have been little less marvellous than her insight into the future.

Of these prophecies the most widely believed in had reference to the fate of Ham Hill, a large stone quarry in the neighbourhood of Yeovil, and a prominent feature of the landscape for miles around. It was to the effect that at twelve o’clock on the Good Friday of 1879 Ham Hill should suddenly be swallowed up by an earthquake, and that at the same time Yeovil should be visited by a tremendous flood. With such real anxiety was last Friday looked forward to, in consequence, that people actually left the locality with their families and went to stay with their friends in other parts of the county until the dreaded “visitation” should be over; others, whose faith was less robust, nevertheless thought it advisable to remove their pots and pans from the shelves of their cupboards and to stow away their clocks and looking-glasses in places where they were not likely to be shattered by the shock of the earthquake; others, again, suspended gardening operations for a day or two, thinking it mere waste to commit good seed to the earth that was likely to behave so treacherously.

On the morning of Good Friday itself large numbers of people – many of them from a distance – flocked to the spot, or as near to the spot as they dared venture, to await, half incredulous and half in terror, the stroke of twelve and the fulfilment of the prophecy. When, however, the appointed hour had passed, and Ham Hill still stood unabashed, they began to look sheepishly into each other’s faces and to move away. At present in Mid-Somerset Mother Shipton and her prophecies are somewhat “at a discount.”

Those crazy provincials. From the Pall Mall Gazette for April 14th, 1879.

... the ox foot stone, which lies in a meadow, so called: it is a large stone of the pebble kind, on which is the fair impression of an ox’s foot, which seems to be natural. The tradition or fable is, that in a great dearth, (nobody knows when,) there came a cow constantly to that place, which suffered herself to be milked, (as long as the dearth lasted,) by the poor people, but when that decreased, she struck her foot against that stone, which made the impression, and immediately disappeared. This wonder however, is evidently the exuvial mark of some bivalve shell, once imbedded in the fossil.

From A General History of the County of Norfolk volume 2, by John Chambers (1829).

On the farm of Upper Arvie, now Ken-Ervie, “There is,” says the Rev. Mr. Crosbie, in the Statistical Account, “a flat stone about three feet in diameter, on which are the marks of what might be supposed a cow’s foot, a horse shoe, the four nails on each side being very distinct, and the impression which might be made by a man’s foot and knee while he was in the act of kneeling, the knot of the garter being quite evident. The tradition connected with this remarkable stone, commonly called the ‘Cow Clout,’ is, that the proprietor, in order to get up arrears of rent, ‘drave the pun,’ or, in other words, carried off the hypothecated stock, while a fierce resistance was made by the people, and that over this stone, on which a man had just been praying for relief against his enemies, the cattle passed, followed by an officer on horseback, and that it remains as a memorial to posterity of the cruel deed.”

This rock, with the ‘Cow’s Clout,’ etc., on it, [...] stands about 100 yards to the north of the march dyke betwixt Upper Ervie now Ken-Ervie and Nether Ervie. There is little to indicate its whereabouts, but the visitor coming from Kenmure Bridge, and leaving the road on the left, opposite Ringour and Bennan farms, on the opposite side of Loch Ken, would come upon it without much trouble by following the march dyke half a mile up.

From Rambles in Galloway by Malcolm McLachlan Harper (1876). Unfortunately the sketch of the stone isn’t included in the scan. Harpur also recounts a similarish story about St Ninian in which a bull impresses its footprint on a rock.

Giant’s Stone. St. Andrews.

About two miles west of St. Andrews, on the estate of Mount Melville, there is a conglomerate boulder 8 by 6 by 3 feet, pretty well rounded. It has been lodged on the bank of a valley, which bank faces the west... The nearest conglomerate rock is distant many miles to the north-west. There is a legend connected with this boulder as follows:

At the time St. Regulus built the Four Knockit steeple at St. Andrews, there lived a giant at Drumcarro Crags, a hill situated about five miles to the west; he was enraged at seeing this building rising up, and he resolved to demolish it, – so, having found a large stone, he borrowed his mother’s apron to use it as a sling for the stone in order to hurl it against the new building. But when in the act of throwing it, the apron burst under the weight of the stone, and it fell short of the object at which it was aimed and rested on the bank where it now lies.

This legend receives geological confirmation in the circumstance that Drumcarro Crags bear about W.N.W. from the boulder, and judging by the situation of the nearest conglomerate rock, that was the direction from which the boulder must have come.

(Mount Melville is at NO483147, though I don’t know if the hurled stone is still there). The story is collected in ‘County Folklore VII – Fife‘ (1914).

The stones in the story fell very close to the fort here. They’re not even mentioned on the 25” map. But you’d like to hope one might survive yet.

The De’il’s Stane. Waltonhill.

Once upon a time, so runs the legend, Samson challenged the devil to match him at boulder throwing. As challenger, Samson stood on the West Lomond; Satan stood on the East. The signal was given; two mighty rocks whistled through the air. “The De’il’s stane” fell where it now lies, on the road-side about a quarter of a mile west from Waltonhill Farm. Samson, though handicapped by three miles greater distance, flung his stone fully four hundred yards beyond that of Satan, and with such force that it split into three parts; which parts are now built into Waltonhill barn.

From the Fife Herald and Journal 1st November 1905, but collected here in the Folklore Society’s collection from Fife.

The Blue Stone of Crail.
This large blue stone, measuring about four feet in diameter, lies in the open space in front of the now disused east school, at the corner of the street, and about thirty yards south from the churchyard gate.

The legend runs that the arch-fiend, bearing some especial grudge against the church of Crail, took his stand upon the Isle of May, and thence threw a huge rock at the building. The missile, however, split during its flight into two pieces, of which the smaller one (bearing the impress of his satanic majesty’s thumb) kept its intended course, falling but a few yards short of the church, while the other larger portion slanted off to the east and lit upon Balcomie sands – both fragments remaining to this day (thumb mark and all), to give ocular demonstration of the truth of the story.

Collected by John Ewart Simpkins in County Folklore vVII – Fife (1914). He also mentions this snippet in ‘The Fringes of Fife‘ by John Geddie (1900):

At the corner of the high-way is the ‘Blue Stone of Crail’. It is the local fetish; and Crail bairns used to kiss it in leaving the old town, in pledge of their return.

“Carlin Maggie” and “The Devil’s Burden.”

The narrow gorge of Glenvale between West Lomond Hill and Bishop Hill was formerly the haunt of witches, of whom “Carlin Maggie” was the chief. Seeing Satan approach bearing a burden of rocks she took her stand upon the Bishop’s Hill and “flyted” him. He let fall his load upon the hill side, pursued her, and turned her to stone on the precipitous slope overlooking Lochleven, where the monolithic rock of Carlin Maggie and the scattered Devil’s Burden are prominent objects in the landscape to this day. The legend is told in verse in Gulland [’The Lomond Hills’ 1877].

In ‘County Folklore volume VII – Fife‘ collected by John Ewart Simpkins (1914).

He’s probably making it up but a stone with this name needs an explanation.

The “Gallowstone” on the top of Cultra Hill marks, no doubt, the place of execution for those condemned to death in the court of the proprietor of Cultra or Balmerino, and in that of the Abbot’s Bailie of later times...

Some years ago this stone was greatly injured in an attempt by some persons in the neighbourhood to find treasure under it. It is said to have been previously twice its present size, and to have rested on several smaller blocks of stone; in fact, to have resembled a cromlech. Perhaps its later name disguises its earlier use.

The RCAHMS record says that this is a ‘much reduced’ cairn, and the gallowstone is probably the capstone of a chamber. The stone is a massive 1.8 x 1.3m.

From Balmerino and its Abbey by James Campbell (1867).

The souterrain here is right on top of the hill. The RCAHMS record says it has 10 steps down to a sandy floor. The walls and ceiling are pieces of sandstone, with no mortar. There is a carved stone ‘6” square, marked by thin concentric lines, with a circular hollow in the centre, 3” in diameter and 1 1/4” deep’, but it’s said not to be in the cup-and-ring ‘class’, so make of that what you will.

Supposedly, the souterrain was discovered in 1878, although ‘1200’ is said to be engraved on a stone, with the implication made that this was a date of previous discovery. Whatever, this spot is surely the place of the following folklore (the hill is now ‘Coalyard Hill’ on the map) and maybe a dim awareness of the souterrain added to its strange reputation.

Calliard Hill – A gradually rising eminence betwixt St Monance and Elie, reported in tradition as the principal arena where warlocks, witches, kelpies, and other imaginary beings, hold their midnight revels, and carry on their incantations, seizing the benighted travellers, dragging them off their course, or tossing them in the air like feathers in the whirlwind. Even in the nineteenth century, a man was taken from that enchanted eminence and carried nine times round Kilconquhar Loch, without the use of any of his locomotive faculties. Such is stated to have been the declaration of the spell-bound individual himself.

From An Historical Account of St. Monance Fifeshire by John Jack, 1844.

There was also supposed to be another souterrain, now gone, at NO 5027 0094.

In the quaint dirty tumbledown City of Poitiers, Dr. Veryard detected a marvel which escaped my observation. It consisted in a stone, twenty-five feet high, sixty in compass, and supported by five small ones. ‘Some will needs have S. Aldegonde to have brought it hither on her shoulders, with the five supporters in her apron, and that, letting one fall by the way, the devil took it up, and following her to the place where she erected the stone on four pillars, set the fifth in the middle; but, cunning artificer as he is, he could not make it touch the great stone by an inch, nor does it to this day‘.

Quoted in Devon and Cornwall Notes and Queries, but originally in notes from the start of the 18th century. Twenty five feet high is somewhat of a misremembering / massive exaggeration!

About fifteen miles to the westward of Crickaeth there is a lofty hill, called Carn Madryn, which is noted for having been a strong hold of Roderick and Maelgwyn, the sons of Owen Gwyneth.

There are many remains of fortifications upon it, from which may be ascertained what was the state of architecture at an early period among the Welsh. “the bottom, sides, and top are filled with cells, oblong, oval, or circular, once thatched, or covered from the inclemency of the weather: many of them are pretty entire. The chieftains resided on the top; the people of the country, with their cattle, in times of invasion, occupied the sides and bottom.” (Pennant).

The stones of the walls are not connected by cement, but are thrown roughly together, and with infinitely less attention to neatness and arrangement than would be observed by a Briton of the present day in the construction of a pig-sty.

A pig-sty? a bit harsh, it is thousands of years old. It’s hard to know from this if the Owain Gwynedd (a prince of North Wales) connection is a folk story or something dreamt up by historian types.
From “A voyage round Great Britain, undertaken in the summer of the year 1813..” by Richard Ayton and William Daniell.

A steep and narrow path leads down to the sanctuary, but the descent is facilitated by a flight of steps cut in the rocks; fifty-two steps a man would say who went boring to work by the ordinary rules of calculation, but it is very well known in these parts, that you might as well attempt to count the grains of sand on the sea-shore as to tell the number of these mystic steps.

... Our guide, anxious to witness the full confirmation of our faith, accompanied us into the interior [of the chape], where we beheld, suspended from the walls, several crutches, which had supported the crippled and credulous to the well, and which were hung up here in testimony of their cure, and as offerings of gratitude to their gracious deliverer.

With this strong hold upon our minds, our guide ventured to bring our belief to new trials, and leading us to a small doorway in the east wall of the chapel, pointed out a circular cavity in the rock, large enough to hold the body of a man. Into this we were to creep, and then to form what wishes were most agreeable to ourselves, which were certainly to be granted, providing that they did not prove disagreeable to the saint.

This little cell was formed by a miracle; the saint was once pursued by some barbarous pagans, and was running wildly about his cave, not knowing whither to turn for safety, when the rocks suddenly opened to receive him, and thus preserved his valuable life.

The two adventurers then meet a girl and a boy who have been drinking the charmed water from the well (regrettably with no benefit). From A voyage round Great Britain, undertaken in the summer of the year 1813 by Richard Ayton and William Daniell.

The authors also mention Bosherton Mere, an amazing natural spectacle very close to the chapel. You can see Sid Howells’ picture here on geograph:
https://www.geograph.org.uk/photo/1581454

... We came to Tintagell Head, a spot more than commonly interesting, not only from the grandeur of its local scenery, but its connection with names and events of our remotest history.

This promontory was once entirely separated from the mainland, but is now connected with it at its base, by a mound of earth which has fallen from the cliffs above. We climbed up it by the best, and indeed the only path, a most frightful ascent over steps of rock, projecting, at very irregular intervals, from the side of a precipice.

On the top, which includes an area of about three acres of ground, are the ruins of a castle, once the residence of the earliest kings and dukes of Cornwall, and illustrious as the birthplace of the far-famed king Arthur.

Lord Bacon observes of this prince, that there is truth enough in his history to make him famous, besides that which is fabulous; determining, I suppose, that all is true, except what is outrageously impossible. All authorities decide that he was born in Tintagell castle, and I see no reason for questioning the fact, provided we admit he was born at all. After having accomplished many deeds that were inconceivably glorious, and have already filled too many volumes to require any illustration from me, he received his daeth blow in a battle with his rebellious relation, Mordred, near Camelford, and not many miles from Tintagell.

[...] I should advise all visitors to Tintagell to content themselves with thus imagining a castle for king Arthur, for I can assure them that, though they may sacrifice their lives by attempting to reach the summit of the promontory, they can see nothing there but the rubbish of an old wall, out of which imagination will be infinitely more puzzled to construct a castle than out of the rocks below

From ‘A voyage round Great Britain, undertaken in the summer of the year 1813’, by Richard Ayton and William Daniell (a pair who look very dapper in their portraits, and who are (sometimes) refreshingly sympathetic to the poor and their living conditions).

An older version of something mentioned by Bottrell:

A short distance from the Cove a mysterious cave was pointed out to us, called Pendeen-Vau, which is conceived by the rustics to be interminable, for they had penetrated at least fifty yards, and still, found no end. At the entrance of it there appeared some years ago a strange lady with a red rose in her mouth, for what purpose it was not easy to ascertain, for the good people seemed unwilling to allow their imaginations to dwell on the possible horrors of the circumstance. This cave was probably used in remote ages as a place of concealment for property during times of war and invasion.

From A Voyage Round Great Britain undertaken in the summer of 1813’ by Richard Ayton.