Latest Folklore

It is said that the devil’s cave is under this stone, and that it contains hidden treasure. Many times the treasure has been sought for, but no bottom could be found to the stone; and hence it was supposed to be protected by the devil. Still adventurers continued to dig, until the excavated hollow round the base of the stone became filled with water, and it stood in the centre of a small lake. Then an attempt was made to draw it out of its place by a yoke of oxen, who strained so hard a the task that the chains snapped, and the attempt proved abortive; although the guardian spirit of the stone appears to have taken alarm at the project, for he is said to have flown away in the shape of a drake, at the moment when the chains broke. Subsequently the stone sank into the earth, and totally disappeared, and for many years the plough passed over it.

In all material points, I am persuaded that this tradition is purely mythological; for the Drake Stone was but slightly fixed in the earth, and at the time when these attempts were said to have been made, the bottom could not have exceeded a foot and a half from the surface of the ground; besides which, no one pretends to assert that any of these experiments occurred in his time; and the oldest person I have consulted, says, that “he had the tale from his fore-elders.”

George Oliver, in The Gentleman’s Magazine for June 1833, p580.

A green mound, near the village of Pennygown (Peigh’nn-a-ghobhann), in the Parish of Salen, Mull, was at one time occupied by a benevolent company of Fairies. People had only to leave at night on the hillock the materials for any work they wanted done, as wool to be spun, thread for weaving, etc., telling what was wanted, and before morning the work was finished. One night a wag left the wood of a fishing-net buoy, a short thick piece of wood, with a request to have it made into a ship’s mast. The Fairies were heard toiling all night, and singing, “Short life and ill-luck attend the man who asked us to make a long ship’s big mast from the wood of a fishing-net buoy.” In the morning the work was not done, and these Fairies never after did anything for any one.

From ‘Superstitions of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland’ by J G Campbell (1900).

There are numerous cairns and tumuli scattered through the parish. Such as have been opened have been found to contain a rude stone coffin, enclosing the bones or ashes of a human body. A cairn on the farm of Towie, on the estate of Auchmedden, called Brodie’s Cairn, deserves particular notice. My informant remembers three cairns of the same name, but with regard to this one in particular, the tradition is as follows:

A farmer of the name of Brodie murdered his mother, whose body was brought to the gate of the church-yard of Aberdour, and every individual in the parish called upon to apply the hand to the naked corpse, under the superstitious belief that the blood would gush upon the murderer. It was observed, that during the time this was going on, her son carefully kept at a distance, and showed great reluctance to approach the body, and that, when recourse was about to be had to compulsion, he confessed the murder. The tradition farther states, that the murderer was drawn and quartered, and that his four limbs were buried on the sides of four roads leading to the church of Aberdour. So much for ancient superstition.

Another cairn of the same name is listed on Canmore at East Mains at NJ86376460. It’s a bit hard from the description whether either of these are the right place, or maybe it refers to the lost third cairn of the same name! All a bit weird really: it sounds rather that the murderer’s limbs should have been buried in the cairns?

As is well known, Belatane, or the first day of May (old style), was one of the sacred days of the ancient Highlanders. In my grandfather’s youth it was the custom for the young men and maidens of Lawers to climb to the summit of Ben Lawers on that day to see the sun rise, and it was a race between the young men which of them would first reach and drink out of a spring called ‘Fuaran Bhain-tighearna Labhair’ – the Lady of Lawers’s Well.

Fragments of Breadalbane Folk-Lore, by James MacDiarmid, in Transactions of the Gaelic Society of Inverness, Volume 28 (1912-14), here.

The large stones are known as ‘the loupin’ stanes,’ because it is said that lads, and even a lass, were in the habit of jumping from the top of one to the other; but as the distance is 8 feet, the people of the district must be uncommonly good ‘loupers’ to accomplish the feat without breaking their legs. However it may be with their limbs, so little are the powers of observation of the natives cultivated that, although all know ‘the loupin’ stanes,’ they generally deny the existence of a circle.

From “’The Girdlestanes’ and a neighbouring stone circle, in the parish of Eskdalemuir, Dumfriesshire” by David Christison, in PSAS 31 (May 1897).

Old Custom In Warwickshire.--
There is a large stone a few miles from Dunchurch, in Warwickshire, called “The Knightlow Cross.” Several of Lord John Scott’s tenants hold from him on the condition of laying their rent before daybreak on Martinmas Day on this stone: if they fail to do so, they forfeit to him as many pounds as they owe pence, or as many white bulls with red tips to their ears and a red tip to their tail as they owe pence, whichever he chooses to demand. This custom is still kept up, and there is always hard riding to reach the stone before the sun rises on Martinmas Day. – MMMR.

From Notes and Queries, May 13th, 1854.

The Cheesewring and the prehistoric remains near it were explored, after a capital luncheon at the Cheesewring Hotel. Mr. Harris, superintendent of the Caradon Railway, added much to the interest of the visit by his explanations and local information. A visit was first made to what is known as the Rillaton Barrow – so named from the manor on which it is situated – in which a remarkable gold drinking cup was found in 1837. Mr. Iago produced an enlarged drawing of it. It is 3 3/4 inches in height, and the bullion value of it is £10.

Mr. Harris stated that before the cup was found there was a curious legend current in the neighbourhood. Whenever hunters came round that way, the Arch Druid would receive them sitting in his chair, and would offer them drink out of a golden goblet; and if there were forty or fifty of them, they could all drink from the cup without emptying it. One day a party were hunting the wild boar in the Widdecombe Marsh, to the west of the Cheesewring, and one of their number took an oath, or laid a wager, that if the Druid was there then, he would drink the cup dry. They thereupon saw the locks of the priest floating in the air, and hastened up to him. The hunter drank of the cup until he could drink no more, and was so enraged at his inability to finish it that he dashed the wine in the face of the Druid, who immediately disappeared. In connection with this legend, it is curious that within a quarter of a mile of the traditional seat of the Druid this gold cup was found.

The story is in the Journal of the Royal Institution of Cornwall v13, relating the annual excursion for 1895. Baring-Gould was a subscriber at this time, and a few years later he made it to President. So it’s possible that he was there at the outing and that’s where he initially heard the story. B-Gs has a better ending. So shockingly the exalted Mr Grinsell is a bit wrong – this is an earlier record of the story (although not by much admittedly). But Mr Grinsell didn’t have the benefits of the Internet and its search engines.

My 17th Century Dutch isn’t so good but I can still look at the illustrations in Johan Picardt’s 1660 book “Korte beschyvinge van eenige vergetene en verborgene Antiquiteten” eg here, here and here. Mr Picardt is considered the founding father of the study of archaeology in the Netherlands. The drawings seem to show the hunebedden being built by giants and dwarfs. But the dwarfs seem to get the raw end of the deal as the giants end up eating them. That’s certainly what it looks like at any rate.

There is a tradition of this part of the country which seems not a great deal more modern than the urns or their ornaments, and which bears the character of the savage nearly as distinctly impressed on it. On the summit of Knock-Ferril, a steep hill which rises a few miles to the west of Dingwall, there are the remains of one of those vitrified forts which so puzzle and interest the antiquary; and which was originally constructed, says tradition, by a gigantic tribe of Fions, for the protection of their wives and children, when they themselves were engaged in hunting.

It chanced in one of their excursions that a mean-spirited little fellow of the party, not much more than fifteen feet in height, was so distanced by his more active brethren, that, leaving them to follow out the chase, he returned home, and throwing himself down, much fatigued, on the side of the eminence, fell fast asleep. Garry, for so the unlucky hunter was called, was no favourite with the women of the tribe; – he was spiritless and diminutive, and ill tempered; and as they could make little else of him that they cared for, they converted him into the butt of all their severer joke, and less agreeable humours. On seeing that he had fallen asleep they stole out to where he lay, and after fastening his long hair with pegs to the grass, awakened him with their shouts and their laughter. He strove to extricate himself, but in vain; until at length infuriated by their gibes, and the pain of his own exertions, he wrenched up his head, leaving half his locks behind him, and hurrying after them, set fire to the stronghold into which they had rushed for shelter. The flames rose till they mounted over the roof, and broke out at every slit and opening; but Garry, unmoved by the shrieks and groans of the sufferers within, held fast the door until all was silent; when he fled into the remote Highlands, towards the west.

The males of the tribe, who had, meanwhile, been engaged in hunting on that part of the northern Sutor which bears the name of the hill of Nig, -- alarmed by the vast column of smoke which they saw ascending from their dwelling, came pressing to the frith of Cromarty, and leaping across on their hunting spears, they hurried home. But they arrived to find only a huge pile of embers in which the very stones of the building were sputtering and bubbling with the intense heat like the contents of a boiling caldron. Wild with rage and astonishment, and yet collected enough to conclude that none but Garry could be the author of a deed so barbarous, they tracked him into a nameless Highland glen, which has ever since been known as Glen-Garry, and there tore him to pieces. And as all the women of the tribe had perished in the flames, there was an end, when this forlorn and widowed generation had passed away, to the whole race of the Fions.

From ‘Scenes and legends of the north of Scotland, or The traditional history of Cromarty,’ by Hugh Miller (1835).

There is a large and very ponderous stone in the parish of Edderton, which a giantess of the [giants’] tribe is said to have flung from the point of a spindle across the Dornoch frith...

From ‘Scenes and legends of the north of Scotland, or The traditional history of Cromarty,’ by Hugh Miller (1835).

This morn after having heard Cathedral Service very well and decently performd at Wells, we proceeded to Glastonbury. Saw Tor hill, a very remarkable Point of view all over the Countrey, being a hill detachd from everything else, on the Top of which stands a tower which was the steeple of a church dedicated to St Michael, which is now totally demolishd and nothing but the shell of the Tower left standing. About the sides of this hill searchd for Lathyrus luteus, but without success – fancy it is hardly yet come into flower. From hence proceed to bloody well, a Spring so Calld from the reddish rust colour with which it tinges the stones over which it Passes. It has a very mineral appearance, but very little taste. The people here hold it in great Repute for astma, scurvy and Dropsy telling of several cures it has and continues to make every day. Not far from this on the other side of town, is the hill on which the Glastonbury thorn is said to have grown, but it has been dead several years, so long that we have not met with anybody who remembers it.

I imagine the bloody well is the Chalice Well though I certainly wouldn’t say the water tasted of nothing. This is from “Journal of an Excursion to Eastbury and Bristol, etc., in May and June, 1767” by Sir Joseph Banks, published in the Proceedings of the Bristol Naturalists’ Society v9 (1898).

Elsewhere I see it is called the ‘Blood Spring’ which was perhaps less damaging to delicate ears.

The fort here with its double rampart is high above where three streams meet. Perhaps its occupants thought that was something important, more than just for its defensive potential. Later an Abbey was built in the valley, so it obviously suited Christian sensibilities. You can’t help wondering how long before that the following spring was revered:

At some distance from the church, in a woody nook, issues a spring named St Bathan’s well, which, according to the superstition of ancient times, had the power of healing diseases; and which still, as is the belief in the neighbourhood, neither fogs nor freeze, and even prevents a mill-lead into which it flows from being locked up with ice in the winter.

From the Abbey St Bathans section of the 1830s Statistical Account.

In the Cornouaille district of Brittany, where pagan ceremonies still linger in most force, there is a custom which Villemarque believes to be Druidical. In June the youths and maidens above sixteen years of age assemble at some lichen-clad dolmen, the young men wearing green ears of corn in their hats, and the girls having flowers of flax in their bosoms. The flowers are deposited on the dolmen, and from the manner in which they remain or wither the young lovers believe they can divine the constancy of their selected partner. The whole party then dance round the dolmen, and at sunset return to their villages, each young man holding his partner by the tip of the little finger. At whatever time this practice originated, it may be presumed the dolmen was not then considered a sepulchre, as we cannot suppose the youthful population of a district assembled to deposit the offerings of love on a tomb, or to disturb the dwellings of the dead with their joyous revelry.

Mentioned in “The early races of Scotland and their monuments” by Lieut.-Col. Forbes Leslie (1866).

Barmby Moor.
On the south side of the churchyard lies a rude rough stone, measuring six feet in length, twenty-two inches in breadth at the wide end, and nine inches thick. After rain, water lodges in a weathered basin on its surface, which tradition says was a certain cure for warts.

Originally from ‘A History of Barmby Moor’ by W D Wood-Rees (1911), and collected in v6 of ‘County Folklore’.

I admit it, this is a bit of a speculative one as I can’t find a picture anywhere. It might turn out to be obviously, stupidly, too young. But if anyone sees it in the flesh they can report back. (Maybe the more I think about it the more it sounds unconvincing? One of its only mentions elsewhere on the internet also hopes for a prehistoric origin. That’s where I get unwarranted encouragement from.)

On more than twenty different spots of this moor were large cairns, in many of which fine yellow dust, and in one of which an old spear head, was found. Two unhewn massive stones still stand, about 100 yards distant from each other, which doubtless are monuments of the dead. The real tradition simply bears that here a deadly feud was settled by dint of arms: the upright stones mark the place where the two lords or leaders fell, and the bodies of their followers were thrown into a marshy pool called the Dead Lake, in the adjoining haugh. It is probable that this is the locality of “the Dowie Dens of Yarrow.”

About 300 yards westward, when the cultivation of this moor began, the plough struck upon a large flat stone of unhewn greywacke bearing a Latin inscription. Bones and ashes lay beneath it, and on every side the surface presented verdant patches of grass. It was examined by Sir Walter Scott, Dr John Leyden, Mungo Park, and others of antiquarian lore. From the rudeness and indistinctness of the carving upon the hard rock, only the following characters can be deciphered--
“Hic memoria et... hic jacent in tumulo duo filii liberali.”

It’s slightly curious that the RCAHMS records don’t give the latter Yarrow Stone the benefit of the doubt when it comes to a possible prehistoric origin. From ‘Reminiscences of Yarrow’ by James Russell (2nd edition, 1894).

A correspondent of the London “Daily Mail” gives some particulars of a mysterious East Riding stream which comes and goes like a will-o’-the-wisp and the appearance of which superstitious folk regard as the harbinger of evil, and which is just now almost the sole topic of conversation in the villages and hamlets among the wolds and dales of North-East Yorkshire.

To solve the mystery of the “Gypsey Race,” as the strange waters are called, has been the ambition of many modern scientists. Little, however, has yet been discovered to account for its eccentricities. Almost as suddenly as they came, some six weeks ago, the waters will shortly disappear, and may not be seen again for years. Only five or six times during the last twenty-one years has this brook run its eerie course. Its source of origin is a hidden mystery. The strange workings of Nature, however, appeal to the curiosity and imagination of the Yorkshire wold-dweller.

Day by day young and old watch the stream running its twenty-mile course of hide and seek among the chalk to the sea at Bridlington. Astonishment is often mingled with awe, for according to tradition dire disasters follow in the wake of the brook, and which in consequence bears the sinister title of “The waters of woe.” Superstitions die hard, and in these out-of-the-way wolds people are still to be found whom it is difficult to dissuade that the running of a stream fed by an intermittent spring is not in some way associated with the supernatural.

I have tried hard, however, to find someone who can give personal testimony in support of the theory that the appearance of the mysterious waters is a prognostication of trouble. With the exception of some heavy floods in the winter of 1860 and a great storm at sea in 1880, no one can remember that the coming of the stream has been attended by any particular local woe. The legend seems to be founded on incidents belonging to a very distant past.

The “gipsey,” it is said, appeared just before the great plague, before the restoration of Charles II., and a few weeks prior to the landing of the Prince of Orange. Its appearance in 1795 is also reported to have synchronised with the descent of a huge meteorite in the village of Wold Newton.

The mysterious stream meanders through this quaint little village, some of the inhabitants of which have not yet ceased to talk of the “bolt from the sky” and its supposed affinity with the “woe-waters” of the wold. Originating from an intermittent spring which bursts through the chalk strata to the east of the village of Wharram-le-street the gipsey stream performs at times so many queer pranks that its vagaries may have given rise to some of the superstitions associated with its appearance.

For instance, the waters may be running strangely at one end of a field and the other end of the bed of the stream be quite dry. On one occasion the stream literally passed through some cottages at Kirby Grindalythe, the water forcing its way through the ground floors and only being released by artificial means. At times trout have been seen in the mystic brook.

Some authorities declare that the stream derives its origin from the Greek word Gupos (chalk), while others aver that it means the same as the ordinary gipsey wanderer. Only once during the last fourteen years have the limpid waters of this strange rivulet run as strongly as they have during the last few days. There are already indications, however, that the waters are about to ebb. Soon the stream will have entirely disappeared and children will again play in its dry and erstwhile channel. The waters, however, will not be forgotten, and not a few old folk will quietly, but anxiously, wait to see whether the gipsy’s warning of 1910 of “battle, plague, and famine” come true or not. – Y.H. April 5th, 1910.

Excellent, it turns out the Gypsey Race is a republican.

This piece from the Yorkshire Herald is collected in County Folklore v6, the East Riding of Yorkshire, edited by Mrs Gutch (1912).

This rock with reputation is so near all the stone rows and cists and hut circles at Yar Tor that I don’t feel too cheeky to add it.

The descent to Dartmeet [from New Bridge] by the road is one of over five hundred feet. Halfway is the Coffin-stone, on which five crosses are cut, and which is split in half – the story goes, by lightning. On this it is customary to rest a dead man on his way from the moor beyond Dartmeet to his final resting-place at Widdecombe. When the coffin is laid on this stone, custom exacts the production of the whisky bottle, and a libation all round to the manes of the deceased.

One day a man of very evil life, a terror to his neighbours, was being carried to his burial, and his corpse was laid on the stone whilst the bearers regaled themselves. All at once, out of a passing cloud shot a flash, and tore the coffin and the dead man to pieces, consuming them to cinders, and splitting the stone. Do you doubt the tale? See the stone cleft by the flash.

From p195 of Baring-Gould’s “Book of Dartmoor” of 1900.

Another giant-related location in the area was the Giant’s Grave. The Canmore record says it was a cairn removed at the start of the 19th century, and there’s nothing more to be seen. They say it was supposed to be at NT 0925 2410.

Over against the foot of Hawkshaw-Burn in a Kairn beside the High road is the Giants Grave, so called from a huge and mighty Fellow, that robbed all on the way, but was at length from a Mount in the over side of the River supprised and shor to Death as Tradition goes.

(Shot I suppose?) From ‘A Geographical, Historical description of the shire at Tweeddale’ by Alexander Pennecuik, 1715.
archive.org/stream/geographicalhist00penn#page/n35

In effecting some improvements, a few years ago, on the farm of Ardross, it was found necessary to remove one of these cairns; but the people had a tradition that “the plague was buried under it,” and refused to touch it; and it was with no small difficulty, that they were at length induced to assist in its removal.

This extract from the Rosskeen chapter of the 1834-45 Statistical Account could refer to Carn Na Feinne (which is certainly near Ardross), but I guess even if not, it gives an idea of local beliefs about cairns. There’s not much of it left – just the thick slabs of sandstone and schist that made up the chamber.

In some of the cairns which were removed, sculls and bones of a very large size were found. One of these cairns bears the name of Carna nam Fiann, i.e. the cairn of the Fingalians.

The next example of reputed Druidical remains in this county, which I shall describe, is to be found in Saddleworth. There is a lofty hill, called by the neighbouring people Pots and Pans. Upon its summit are abundance of craggy stones scattered up and down, which, when viewed from the east, look like the foundation or ruins of some stupendous fabric.

One of these stones, or rather two of them, closely joined together, is called the Pancake. It has upon its surface four basins hollowed in the stone, the largest, being nearly in the centre, is capable of holding 8 or 10 gallons; but it is not possible to ascertain whether these hollows are artificial or natural. This stone is about 76 feet in circumference; another long uneven hole upon this stone is called Robin Hood’s Bed.

A little westward of this is another stone, about 20 feet in heght, and about 56 feet in circumference at the base, but much narrower at the top, from whence proceed irregular flutings or ridges down one side, of about 2 feet long, by some supposed the effect of time, and by others the workmanship of art.

More westward, and nearer the valley of Greenfield, the ground is called Alderman’s, and overlooks that valley, opposite to a large and high rock called Alphian. Upon the level of this ground is a fissure in the earth, about 12 or 14 yards long, each end terminating in a cavernous hole in the rock, one of which is capable of admitting dogs, foxes, or sheep: the other large enough to receive men. Neither of these caverns has been thoroughly explored by anyone within memory.* One person who went into the larger with a light, returned after having gone down a sloping descent of about 60 yards. Tradition says, into the other hole, once went a dog in full chase after a fox, but neither of them ever returned.

*This is an extract from an account of these rocks written fifty years ago. Since that time demolition has been at work, and what time has spared has been wantonly injured. Many of these large and ponderous stones have been removed by crows and levers, for the purpose of trying how far they would tumble. Thus we find the hand of violence uniting with the devouring teeth of time, determined scarcely to leave one stone upon another upon this once sacred ground.

From ‘Some Observations on Certain supposed Druidical Remains in the County of York’, by JK Walker, in the Gentleman’s Magazine for 1839, part 1, pp 133-140.

In modern times, everything unaccountable, however harmless it might be in itself, was ascribed to the agency of the devil. By the hope of a trifling reward – too often the soul of his employer – he might be induced to undertake the execution of any kind of structure. The Pikes on Carrock Fell are specimens of his diabolical architecture, though for what they were intended, tradition does not inform us; and the stones scattered about the summit of the hill, are the result of an accident that happened to him whilst engaged in their erection. He had finished one, and was bringing in his apron a sufficient quantity of stones to complete the second, when the apron-strings burst, and the greater part of his materials scattered in all directions. And this, it appears, is the reason why one of the Pikes is so much smaller than the other. The heap of stones in Ullswater is ascribed to a similar accident. On this occasion also he had his apron laden, and was striding in great haste from the Nab to Barton Fell, when the stones fell into the lake, and formed a bank dangerous to boats at some seasons.

From ‘Cumberland and Westmorland, ancient and modern’ by Jeremiah Sullivan (1857).
archive.org/stream/cu31924104090778#page/n139

‘Lochnagar’ by Alex McConnochie 1891
Passage about the Fairy hillock

“Near the bridge is a round-topped green hillock which, in the palmy days of superstition, was accounted a resort of the ” little folks”. Indeed, Dr. Macgillivray, writing in 1850, says that “on it a man still living has seen fairies dancing, with a piper playing to them “. The usual legend crops up here. On a certain Christmas evening two men proceeding from Loch Callater to Castleton heard beautiful music, and saw the little folks dancing on the hillock. One of the men fled precipitately, but the other stayed to feast his ears and eyes, and Christmas came round again before he was discovered as he had been left — standing, admiring the antics of the fairies. At first he declined to leave, as he ” hadna been there but for an hour or twa”, But he was ultimately rescued from the fascinations of the green-clad folk. ”

‘Lochnager’ by Alex McConnochie 1891
Passage about the Priest’s Well

“A short path, beginning a few yards East of the keeper’s house, leads to a particularly large boulder by the loch side at which is ” the Priest’s Well “, a small chalybeate spring joining the loch. Of course this well has a story associated with it. According to legend, Braemar, at some remote period, suffered from a frost of longer duration and greater strength than even that wintry district had ever previously experienced. The month of May came, but so hard was the ground that not a plough could enter it. Famine being feared, appeal was made to Phadruig, the priest already alluded to. The good man led his anxious flock to this well, which, being of unusual character, was then esteemed of saintly origin. Like all others in the neighbourhood, however, its waters were fast sealed up, but after repeated prayers the well began to thaw. The first water drawn from it was applied to holy purposes. Mass celebrated, the priest resumed his supplications with the gratifying result that the thaw became general. The mountain on which the lowering clouds, intimating the advent of rain, were first seen, was called Cam an t-Sagairt, the Priest’s Mountain, but in these degenerate days the name has been corrupted to the more common-place, if not euphonious, form of “Cairn Taggart “. Another version of the tradition has it that both priest and people went to Cam an t-Sagairt and remained there until the desired thaw set in. Until a comparatively recent period the Priest’s Well — like many of its kind — had considerable popularity, and the usual offerings of coins, buttons, and preens were thrown into it.”

Dr Forbes, ‘Dolmens in Scotland,’ 1929.

“In the Cambridge Ancient History, vol. 11, p. 594, occurs the statement : ’ No dolmens have been reported from Scotland’. May I place on record the position of one at least ? It stood, some 70 years ago or more (I hope it still stands), at the north or northwestern extremity of Battle Hill which looks down on the town of Huntly on the river Bogie in Aberdeenshire. In walking from Drumblade to the town, about 3 miles off, one usually took a ’ short cut ’ over Battle Hill. This bypath diverged from the turnpike road leading north to Banff and led to the top of Battle Hill (400 feet),close past the edge of the wood a few yards within which stood this monument. It was a typical dolmen, of which I retain a perfectly clear recollection, with its large granite capstone supported by three massive, rudely shaped pillars. On the aspect towards the bypath, there were some blocks of stone on the ground which may have constituted a fourth pillar or the ruins of a dromos, otherwise the dolmen was in excellent preservation. It stood about 6 to 7 feet high above the ground level, for I remember it took some climbing for me as a small boy to get on top. The dolmen had a special attraction for me perhaps because of what I felt was the inadequacy of the obtainable explanations as to its builders or its purpose. The legends attached to it were : that it was a ruined druid’s altar; that the stones were dropped down through a hole in the Devil’s apron when on his way to Knock Hill to deposit the cloven-stone there (a large glacial erratic); and that it is the tomb of a great warrior. Now, not far from the point where the bypath leaves the Banff road and on the flat on its eastern side stand two round tumuli, some 40 or 50 yards apart to the best of my recollection (cf. Geological Survey map of Scotland, sheet 86). Report had it that they mark the site of a great battle in ancient times, which gives its name to the hill and wood at whose base they stand, and that they contain the bones of the opposing combatants, one for each side ; but that the dolmen on the hill was raised to the memory of one of the leaders who was killed in the fray. It is possible that the battle (if battle ever took place) may have been fought on the hill, and that the tumuli (if graves they be) were erected on the plain in whose deeper soil (since Battle Hill is composed of thinly covered granite) it would be easier to place them.”

There is a reputed well in the rock of Clegyr Voya that is supposed always to have water in it, but to fill especially when the tide flows. It is a small hollow in the igneous rock, from which a core or crystal has fallen, and is about large enough for the fist to be inserted. This “Fynnon” is still in repute, and its water is regarded as sovereign, especially for sore eyes.

Whilst I was engaged on the exploration of Clegyr Voya, I went several times a day to the reputed spring, but never found water in it, though the rock and sediment at the bottom remained wet.

A tradition exists that, eighty years ago, a party of men resolved on treasure seeking in the camp. The first day, they had hardly begun to dig before a pouring rain came on which drove them away. They went again, and next day a thunderstorm broke over them; but they did not leave till they had uncovered a kettle. They attempted the third day to dig out the kettle, but on reaching the rock thunder and lightning played about it, and the storm continued with such violence, and so long, that they retreated and abandoned the attempt. The origin of the story seem to be this:-- It is commonly held that a subterranean passage connects Clegyr Voya with St. David’s Cathedral, and that considerable treasure is hidden in it.

From the Rev. S Baring-Gould’s article on ‘The Exploration of Clegyr Voya’, in Archaeological Cambrensis, January 1903.
archive.org/stream/archaeologiacam65assogoog#page/n12