Latest Folklore

from A Description of Malvern and its Concomitants – Mary Southall (1882)

Upon the summit of the North Hill, there appears an immense grave, part of which is entire. The narrow part appears to have fallen in. The old inhabitants of Malvern call it the Giant’s Grave. It has a very peculiar appearance. By the side, is the form of a cross...Upon the Table Hill you will perceive the figure of a large table, whence the name is derived. In the centre is a cross, of the same size as that by the Giant’s Grave, upon North Hill.

In ‘Early British Trackways, Moats, Mounds, Camps, and Sites‘ Alfred Watkins states that North Hill is the beginning of a ley line to Pen-y-Beacon via Mathon Church, Moat at Birchend, Stretton Grandison Church, Shucknell Hill, White Stone Chapel, Burcot Pool, Ten Houses Pond and Sugwas Park.

Watkins also believed that the nearby St Ann’s Well was the start of a ley line that passes along the ridge of the Malvern Hills through several wells including the Holy Well, Walms Well and St. Pewtress Well.

The following is taken from Britarch May/June 2010, its parts of a  letter from Lethbridge to the editor of The Times 12/6/36, and he mentions a book written by Bishop Hall in the 18th century.
Its about the giant of course and definitely folklore but he seems to have existed.
Lethbridge also mentions another giant at Oxford.....
All very curious, considering its fairly flat round Cambridge and Oxford not many stones to chuck around.

“A Giant called All Paunch, who was of an incredible Height of Body, not like him whose Picture the Schollers of Cambridge goe to see at Hogmagog Hills, but rather like him that ought the two Aple Teeth which were digged out of a well in Cambridge, that were little less than a man’s head. When I was a boy, about 1724, I remember my father or mother as it happened I went with one or other of them to Cambridge......always used to stop and show me and my brother and sisters the figure of the giant carved on the Turf; concerning whom there were then many traditions, now worn away. What became of the two said teeth I never heard”.

Lethbridge goes on to write that there is an Elizabethan tradition of calling “Knight to Knight come forth” and a giant will come forth and fight you. And it is possible that at this time certain festivities were stopped i.e. fertility rites performed at this figure......

Even people who’ve known the hill all their lives can find it has a strange and unpleasant atmosphere sometimes. Harry Poole’s account is at the Dorset Books website. There’s plenty of reading between the lines that needs to be done.

I thought I knew the Hill and all its moods after half a lifetime of toiling on its steep sides but this was a new facet, one that I had not come across before. The chilly atmosphere had become oppressive and there was something different, something strange, something which took my concentration for a moment. It came between me and the job I was doing and I cannot account for it try as I will. It’s no good saying you should be more careful. I’ve been using edge tools for over fifty years and apart from an accident with a circular saw which was my own fault, nothing like this has happened before...

There are many of his stories on the website about the area. It’s rather nice that you can’t always tell the line between fact, memory and imagination.

In the Cornish language these stones are called ‘Dons Mein’ which mean Dancing Stones or Dance Stones. About 600 yards to the north there are two standing stones about 200 yards from each other, and to the north-west, about 100 yards distant, another stone 8 feet to 10 feet high above ground.

According to an old tale told by the peasants, the two first-mentioned stones whistle, the third plays, and the 19 dance when they hear the cock crow.

From the Swedish ‘industrial spy’ R R Angerstein’s illustrated travel diary 1753-55’ (readable on Google Books).

Morgan’s Hill is so named after a Mr. Morgan of Heddington who murdered his uncle. For this he not only hung but his body was left hanging on the hill top gibbet.

Gibbeting was common law punishment, which a judge could impose in addition to execution. This practice was regularised in England by the Murder Act 1752, which empowered judges to impose this for murder. It was most often used for traitors, murderers, highwaymen, pirates, and sheep-stealers, and was intended to discourage others from committing similar offences.

As was the case with murderers, he was not given a Christian burial in a church yard but what was left of his remains were placed face down and covered with stones. In Morgan’s case, this was somewhere on the parish boundary between Heddington and Bishop Cannings, probably just over the road from Smallgrain Plantation. It would appear that the spot contains several bodies of highwaymen too, but none of the infamous Cherhill Gang who robbed the stagecoaches naked, for none was ever caught.

This tale told to me by the late Mr. Atwell of the motor museum who was shown the very spot while out horse riding “on the same day they buried Winston Churchill”.

The Black Legend

The black legend is the tale of forbidden love, a femme fatale, exposed passion and a multiple murder.
Crafted by a Hollywood icon into a 1940’s silent black and white movie, the story told by a young John Schlesinger and Alan Cooke contains the same sinful mix of ingredients found in such film noir classics like The postman always knocks twice.
Unlike the pulp fiction penned by Raymond Chandler, this eternal triangle of temptation, lust and homicide, was not played out on the backstreets of some depression hit U.S. city, but on top of the highest and most sacred hill on the Wiltshire Berkshire border.

After 333 years of damnation, have the murdered or murderers’ found peace in this ancient landscape?

As with any tale that has become legend, sorting fact from fiction is not straight forward. Many variations on the same theme have grown up and with the script writers hand at work, aspects may have been lost in the mix, added to or completely created. The tale I will now tell may not be the whole story but I shall attempt to be as honest and direct as can be construed.

Travel back in time to a cold winters day in the year 1676, the 23rd of February 1676 to be precise. The place is Winchester Assizes where a farm labourer named George Bromham and a widow named Dorothy Newman are standing trial for murder. The record of the trial is to be found in the Western Circuit Gaol Book for the period XXII-XXIX Charles II, the exact chapter XXVIII Ch.II, is retained in Winchester Library. George Bromham was a farm labourer living in the tiny village of Combe, just below Walbury Hillfort on the edge of Berkshire. He was married to Mrs. Martha Bromham and had a young son, Robert. It would appear that George Bromham had formed some kind of illicit association with the widow Dorothy Newman who lived in the larger village of Inkpen, a few miles over the other side of Walbury Hillfort, in the valley below.

It is not stated how long this relationship had been formed or what brought the two together or even if the relationship was “village gossip”. What is clear is that one dark day in the weeks leading up to the trial, Martha and her son Robert were walking the ancient Wigmoreash Drove which connects Inkpen and Woodhay to the top of Inkpen Beacon and Combe. Either George or both George and Dorothy were lying in wait, and beat Martha and Robert to death with a “staffe”. Whether both committed murder or not, the beaten bodies of Martha and Robert were dumped into the dew pond known as Wigmoreash Pond or as it became known “Murders’ pool”.

The tale now twists with the addition of a character called “Mad Thomas”. Thomas is said to have been the village idiot and either deaf , dumb or both. It was Thomas who is said to have witnessed the dastardly deed and altered the authorities to the bodies and the culprit(s). Indeed Thomas is said to have been called as a witness at the Assizes. Whether this was fact or fiction is unclear, it may have been written into the film’s script for convenience, the guilty party(s) may have been brought down by other factors such as tracks in the snow or mud, the murder weapon(s), blood stained clothing, village gossip or a guilty confession.

Whatever or whoever it was that pointed the finger of suspicion at George Bromham and Dorothy Newman, both were haled off to the Assizes at Winchester, both stood trial for the murder of Martha and her son Robert, both were convicted and found guilty of murder and both were ordered to be hanged “in chaynes near the place of the murder”. Their public hanging took place on 3rd March 1676 in Winchester.

Records suggest that some dispute arose as to who would be liable for the cost of the “hanging in chaynes”, which would involve the building and erection of a considerable sized double gibbet, together with two sets of iron “chaynes”. As the crime was neither committed, or planned in either the parish of Combe or Inkpen, but on their borders. This was settled by the cost being equally split between both parishes and the place that neither parish had claim to as the boundary stopped at the side ditches, the Long Barrow itself. Records indicate that the two dead bodies were then brought back to Inkpen and laid out in the barn at the back of the Crown and Garter Inn, where they were measured up by the local blacksmith and fitted in their chaynes. This barn is reputed to have became a tourist attraction, probably initiated by the landlord, and was renamed ‘Gibbet Barn’. It would appear that the final hanging of the bodies of George and Dorothy, now bound in their chaynes, took place each side of their double gibbet on the 6th day of March 1676.

The original gibbet lasted an unknown length of time, but the second gibbet was erected in 1850 to replace the rotted original. This was struck by lightning, and was replaced by number three in 1949. It is unclear if this was a `prop’ used in the film. However, that one lasted only one year, and number four was erected in 1950. Since then the gibbet has been sawn down by vandals on two occasions, in 1965 and 1969, both events believed to have been in protest against hanging. The fourth gibbet blew down in gales during the winter of 1977-78, where the stump had rotted away. The current gibbet was re-erected on May Day, Beltane, 1st May 1979.

There are several prehistoric round barrows on Inkpen Hill, which are supposed to contain buried treasure, including a coffin made either of solid gold or of silver. One particular barrow, on Saddler’s Farm, is said to be haunted by a headless ghost; it is also said that nineteenth century archaeologists who tried to open it up were driven away by violent thunder and lightning.

Westwood and Simpson (’Lore of the Land’, 2005), apparently drawing on Grinsell’s Folklore of Prehistoric Sites, and 3rd Stone magazine v47.

Westwood and Simpson, in their ‘Lore of the Land’ (2005), mention that a golden calf is supposed to be buried here. I wonder if it’s got anything to do with the nearby Cow Down. They prefer biblical explanations. But I like mine.

There is a large tumulus in Stanmore field.. called Burrow Hill by the common people; who have a tradition that a man of that name was interred there in a gold or silver coffin. This barrow.. was opened during the month of April, 1815..

The common people state that an attempt to open this barrow was made about fifty years ago, but the design was frustrated by a dreadful hailstorm, with lightning, which compelled the labourers to desist. Thunder being also heard during the second attempt in question, the excavators were universally considered as the disturbers of the atmosphere; those that remembered the previous event, remarking, that “the undertaking seemed not altogether pleasing to the Lord!”

A terrific thunder-storm happening on the following day, the labourers were obliged to desist and take refuge in a neighbouring cottage; which had such an effect on the mind of one of the workmen employed, that he actually refused to come again. The recurrence of a thunder storm during this, the second attempt, was generally considered as remarkable; but such was its melancholy influence on this poor fellow that he became completely deranged, and never did a day’s work afterwards; being confined in St. Luke’s and other lunatic asylums for the remainder of his life. It is but justice to state, that Mr Long [the director of the excavation] had never heard of this melancholy result of his labours until the present year.

Among other ridiculous stories and puerile superstitions respecting this tumulus, the peasantry relate that it is inhabited by fairies; and that a certain ploughman having broken his share, and gone home to procure some tools, found on his return that the plough had already been mended.

From ‘The history and antiquities of the hundred of Compton, Berks’ by John Snare, 1844.

There is a remarkable tradition amongst the peasantry, who state that this fosse*, from one end to the other, was dug by the Devil in a single night, and that retiring to the summit of the downs he there scraped his spade, the mould from which formed the well-known barrow, Cuckhamsley Hill! Others narrate that it is a furrow made by the Devil, who traversed these downs with his plough!

*ie the Devil’s Dyke or Grim’s Ditch.

From ‘The history and antiquities of the hundred of Compton, Berks’ by John Snare, 1844.

Henry Bett gives a different version of the legend in English Legends (1950). he says that the Jumps Inn, on the road to the church, was so-called because on the spot where it stands three youths were jumping on a Sunday when a mysterious stranger joined them and offered to teach them how to leap. He made three marvellous leaps, the extent of which, says Bett, was still shown (presumably he is referring to the standing stone or stones). The terrified youths tried to escape, but the Devil seized them and they all vanished in a blue flame.

Retold in Westwood and Simpson’s ‘Lore of the Land’ (2005).

It seems no difficult matter to point out the time of year when this great prince died, who is here [in Silbury] interr’d, viz. about the beginning of our present April. I gather it from this circumstance. The country people ahve an anniversary meeting on the top of Silbury-hill on every palm-Sunday, when they make merry with cakes, figs, sugar, and water fetch’d from the Swallow-head, or spring of the Kennet. This spring was much more remarkable than at present, gushing out of the earth, in a continued stream. They say it was spoil’d by digging for a fox who earth’d above, in some cranny thereabouts; this disturb’d the sacred nymphs, in a poetical way of speaking.

... I took notice that apium grows plentifully about the spring-head of the Kennet. Pliny writes defunctorum epulis dicatum apium. To this day the country people have a particular regard for the herbs growing there, and a high opinion of their virtue.

This is from Stukeley’s ‘Abury’, chapter 9 (courtesy of the excellent images at Avebury Now
avebury-web.co.uk/AburyWS/AburyWS.html ).

Hmm, Pliny could be talking about the plant being served at feasts for the dead. But my latin is non-existent, perhaps someone else can translate? I imagine Apium is a carrot-family water-celeryish sort of plant. Maybe fool’s watercress or something similar? Culpeper said that Apium “opens stoppings of the liver, and spleen, cleanses the blood, provokes the menses, helps a cold stomach to digest its meat, and is good against the yellow jaundice”. But that could have been a totally different plant too...

... an artificial peculiarity about [Mither Tap] makes it still more worthy of notice – the great mass of stones that encircles the summit like a fortification... Naturally the Picts – and probably deservedly – get the credit of the building... The fortification has also been attributed to Sir Andrew Leslie of Balquhain, the Earl of Mar’s “master of horse,” who fought and was killed at the Battle of Harlaw.

Tradition has it that at one time he lived on the top, and carried off young women to this rude fortress, as well as took shelter there himself when his lawlessness put him in disgrace with his superior. But there are several reasons why this tradition should not be credited, besides the absurd account which it gives as to the origin of the Maiden Causeway...

There is another, and much later, tradition that the fortress was used as a hiding place by Lord Pitsligo after he had been attainted for his share in the rebellion of ‘45. An active search was made for him after the Battle of Culloden, but he always contrived, though often very narrowly, to evade his pursuers...

When on Bennachie he occasionally visited his friend General Horn at Logie-Elphinstone, and had a night’s hard drinking with him. On the General’s wife remonstrating with him against this habit, Lord Pitsligo replied that, “if she was sittin’ upon a cauld, bare stane up on Bennachie wi’ naething but burn water, she micht ca’ that ‘hard drinkin’.’”

The well is now dry, the water having disappeared it is said, in a single night, though some years ago it gave a fair supply of excellent water. At one time it was filled up with stones, to the disgust of the natives, by a crofter-squatter, who was annoyed by his sheep wandering to the top of the Mither Tap, and occasionally falling into the well. The stones have since been partly removed, but water appears to have forsaken the place.

The last bit sounds suspiciously superstitious, that by insulting the well by filling it in, it decided it wouldn’t bother any more. Maybe.

This and masses more in Alex. Inkson McConnochie’s ‘Bennachie’ (1890) which is on the Archive.orgwebsite.

Wayland or Volund is the divine smith in Norse, Anglo-Saxon and Germanic. It is said that is you leave your horse tethered there overnight with a silver coin as payment, the horse will have been re-shoed in the morning!

In folklore, Volund and his two brothers steal the “swan-shifts” of three swan maidens then go on to convince the swan maidens to stay in their human forms and become their wives. After a period of 9 years the Swan-Maidens manage to find their swan-shifts and turn back into swans! Interesting as it has been observed that Waylands Smithy aligns to Deneb in the consellation Cygnus (The Swan)

Reference “The Cygnus Mystery” by Andrew Collins

Swallowhead Springs has been proposed as a site for worship of the Celtic Goddess Brid or Bridget (Bride in Scotland and Breeshey on the Isle of Man). She presided over fire, art, beauty and is said to be the mother of the Gods. She is often associated with the return of the flow of water in the month of march and therefore the return of life in spring.

(Reference “The Avebury Cycle” by Dames)

Known anciently as Brugh na Boinne “Place of the Boyne” Newgrange is said to be the tomb of ‘three times fifty sons of kings’ belonging to the legendary kingdom of Tara (Illustrated guide to Newgrange by O’Kelly) It is also identified as the sidhe of Angus Mac Og, leader of the Tuatha da Danann- the children of the godess Danu/ Dana.
One legend “The Dream of Angus” relates how he fell in love with a swan-maiden after she visited him in a dream. After she agreed to marry him, they fly off to Newgrange in the form of swans, where they lived happily ever after. In Scottish folklore, Angus was married to the goddess Bride, who was herself a swan-maiden.

This is an interesting refernce as Newgrange itself may represent the layout of the constellation Cygnus- The Swan.

About three quarters of a mile south-west of Mugdrum cross, are the remains of another celebrated cross, Norman Macduff’s cross, on which so much has been written, both in prose and rhyme. It is situated upon the high ground, in an opening of the Ochils which forms a pass from the valley of Strathearn into the central portion of Fife. This cross is said to have been broken in pieces by the Reformers, on their way from Perth to Lindores; and nothing now remains but the large square block of freestone which formed the pedestal. [..] There are several holes or indentations on its different faces, which tradition says were nine in number, and in which nine rings were at one time fixed. [..] It formed a girth or sanctuary for any of the clan Macduff, or any related to the chief within the ninth degree, who had been guilty of “suddand chaudmelle,” or unpremeditated slaughter. In consequence of this privilege any person entitled to take advantage of it, and requiring its security, fled to the cross, and laying hold of one of the rings, punishment was remitted on his washing nine times at the stone, and paying nine cows and a colpendach or young cow; the nine cows being fastened to the rings. [...] a powerful spring called the Nine wells, where it is supposed that the ablutions took place, still takes its rise at no great distance from the cross.

[..] It was on all occasions necessary when the privilege of Cross-Macduff was claimed, that proof should be given of consanguinity within the limited degree; and where in any case the claimant failed in establishing his right, he was instantly put to death, and buried near the stone. There were formerly several artificial airns and tumuli around the cross, and one rather larger than the rest about fifty yards to the north, but the progress of agriculture which has brought the ploughshare over the fields around the cross, has now removed all traces of them. [..] “Superstition,” says Cant, “forbids the opening of any of them; no person in the neighbourhood will assist for any consideration, nor will any person in or about Newburgh travel that way when dark, for they affirm that spectres and bogies, as they call them, haunt that place.”

From ‘The topographical, statistical and historical gazetteer of Scotland’ v2, published by A Fullarton and Co, 1856.

More details. It’s not on Canmap but if it’s earthfast maybe it is still there?

At a place called Killiesmont, in this parish, there is one of those pieces of ground, sometimes found in Scotland, variously known by the name of the Guidman’s Craft, or the “Gi’en Rig,” that is, given or appropriated to the sole use of the devil, in order to propitiate the good services of that malign being. This piece of land is on the southern declivity of a lofty eminence. At the upper end of the ridge, there is a flat circular stone of about eight feet in diameter, in which there are a number of holes, but for what purpose tradition is silent.

Like other crofts of this description in Scotland, the present remained long uncultivated, in spite of the spread of intelligence. The first attempt to reclaim it was made not more than fifty years since, when a farmer endeavoured to improve it; but , by an accidental circumstance, it happened that no sooner had the plough entered the ground than one of the oxen dropped down dead. Taking this as an irrefragable proof of the indignation of its supernatural proprietor, the peasant desisted, and it remained untilled till it came into the possession of the present occupant, who has had the good taste to allow the large flat stone to remain, a memorial of the idle fancies of preceding generations.

The Gazetteer of Scotland, by Robert and William Chambers. V1, 1844.

In his book ‘Villages of the White Horse’ Alfred Williams writes about the legend of Wayland or Weland, the invisible smith who dwelt in the cave known as Wayland’s Smithy. His forge was hidden far under ground and legend has it if a traveller wanted his horse shod and left some money by the entrance when he returned later he would find the horse newly shod. A well known legend; Alfred Williams adds to it this passage:

“One day old Wayland lost his temper and gave a thrilling proof of his mighty strength, striking fear into the folks of the countryside round about. Running short of nails, he sent his favourite imp, Flibbertigibbert, down the valley to obtain some from the other blacksmiths, and bade him to make haste about it, as a horse was waiting outside to be shod. After waiting several hours he looked out from the cave and saw the imp had yielded to the temptations of a mortal and gone bird-nesting in the fields, forgetful of the nails. Thereupon Wayland, fell into a passion, snatched a big round stone, used as an anvil, and threw it at the loiterer, two miles off; the stone shot through the air with a loud whizzing noise and, falling short of the mark, nevertheless slid along the ground and struck the imp on the foot retaining the mark of his heel on one side. Thereupon the imp appeared to the astonished rustics, limping and snivelling and rubbing his eyes with his fist, so they called the spot Snivelling Corner, and the name remains to this day.”

Alfred Williams goes on to say “Others think the ‘heel’ on the stone at Snivelling Corner may be a clue to its true significance as a ‘heol stone’ or sun stone from ‘heelios’. Greek for sun.”

Source: “Villages of the White Horse” by Alfred Williams (first published 1913)

The Scouring of the White Horse

Historian, Brian Edwards’ paper *’The Scouring of the White Horse’ – published in the 2005 WANHS magazine, has a section on the scouring of Uffington White Horse which proved of great interest. The Revels, a two day festival of rustic games, backswording, wrestling, sack races and pole climbing, was held as a precursor to the scouring. However, the last scouring and games to took place in 1857.

*Thomas Hughes (author of Tom Brown’s Schooldays) wrote a novel in 1859 called The Scouring of the White Horse.

The last chapter of Alfred Williams book Villages of the White Horse (first published 1913) is also about the about Uffington, the White Horse and the last games that took place in 1857. He too drew on Thomas Hughes’ original work for his information but although he says that nearly all who took part are now dead he managed to find an eye witness account in the person of Old William Reeves of Shrivenham who was by then nearly 90.

“Old William with his picturesque red woollen waistcoat, red knitted cuffs and head slightly inclined, is delighted to talk about the Revels, though he admits there was a little “blaggardness” sometimes, and sundry small accidents; as when, in the cart-horse race, a big mare stumbled and fell on her rider, killing him on the spot; and again after the pig hunt, how five competitors claimed the prize, and killed the poor pig in contending as to which should have it; and how thieves broke into the booths and carried off all the taking, and other suchlike happenings.”

Very descriptive and possibly clues as to why it was abandoned.

‘Monk’s Cairn is so-called solely because it marked the boundary of the land owned by the Abbey of Kinloss. The legend of its marking the spot where the monk of Grange was killed in a duel, is unfounded.‘

W. Crammond, 1895.

This nice bit of rock has an interestingly pagan-sounding bit of folklore, summarised by Sir William Fraser (in ‘The chiefs of Colquhoun and their country’, 1869):

Under Benvoirlich there lies on the roadside near Lochlomond a stone of large dimensions, called Clachan Tarrow or the Bull Stone. The history of this stone as told by tradition is, that it was rolled down the mountain in a desperate struggle between two infuriated bulls. Forty years ago a pulpit was cut out on the side of the stone fronting the road, from which the minister of the parish might occasionally preach to those of his parishioners who lived in this remote district, which is ten miles distant from the parish church.

Hmm. You’d think it’d be quicker just to stand on a box. But JM Briscoe’s photo on geograph does show it to be an impressive backdrop for ecclesiastical ranting. More details here on the Arrochar Parish Church website (but for goodness sake turn off your speakers. You have been warned).

More about the bulls is found in AD Lacaille’s ‘Ardlui Megaliths and their Associations’ (PSAS 63, 1928/9):

The strong flavour of mythology in the Gaelic name, “Clach nan Tairbh,” for the Pulpit Rock, is accounted for in the tradition of the Red Bull of England and the Black Bull of Scotland meeting in mortal combat on Ben Vorlich. So terrific was the contest that the rock on which they fought became detached by reason of the shocks it was subjected to by the onslaughts of the infuriated animals, and finally it slipped down the slope of the mountain to rest permanently in its present situation. Victory, we learn, was with the northern bull which, with its crooked horn, dispatched its rival (Campbell, Popular Tales of the West Highlands). The story ends with the statement that Clach nan Tairbh “is the largest boulder in the three realms” – an indication that the legend associated with the place may go back tothe time when this country was still divided up into the three kingdoms of Strathclyde, Dalriada, and Pictland.

Like me, the author clings desperately to ideas of the rock’s ancient significance: “To reply to a speculative inquiry as to why a more convenient spot, such as a house, should not have been the place for meetings of a religious character after the fall of the ancient church, consideration must be given to some traditional significance borne by the huge boulder to the minds of the inhabitants of the locality – a significance, moreover, which had its origin in remote antiquity.” yeah yeah.

A tradition of Kincardineshire favours the theory that the plague is popularly believed to have had a bodily form. On the farm of Mondynes, in the parish of Fordoun, and at no great distance from the banks of the river Bervie, stands, in the middle of a ploughed field, a large stone, underneath which the plague is said to have been buried.

At the last occurence of the pest in Scotland, say the country people, there dwelt in this district a benevolent warlock, who determined to free his country for ever from the terrible destroyer. By dint of spells, he succeeded in drawing toards him the whole material of the plague, and winding it up round his fingers, as people wind thread. The clew reached the size of a man’s head before every particle was collected. When completed, he took it in his hands to the spot mentioned, put it into the earth, and covered it with this large stone. All of this was done by spells, the power of which ceased when the stone was laid down; so that, according to the popular belief, it that were to be removed, the ball would burst forth, explode, and the plague would again overspread the country.

Mentioned in the Edinburgh Literary Journal (Nov 1828-May 1829), p380.

From John Smith’s ‘Prehistoric Man in Ayrshire’ (1895):

There is a granite boulder on Blairstone on which is cut an incised figure, popularly believed to represent the sword of Wallace; but a glance at it shows that it has not been made to represent a sword, but a cross, which measures 3 feet 6 inches long, and 14 inches over the arms of the cross, which, as well as the top of it, widen out a bit at the ends. The tradition of the neighbourhood is to the effect that Wallace laid his sword on the granite boulder, and some kind artist chalked off the outline, and cut out its representation on the stone; but it is far too small for Wallace’s sword, even if it were the proper shape. For its better preservation, the stone has been surrounded by a stone-and-lime wall.

Or another theory:

Abercrummie says: “There is also upon the descent of Broun-Carrick-Hill, near to the mains of Blairstoune, a big whinstone, upon which there is the dull figure of a cross, which is alleged to have been done by some venerable churchman, who did mediat a peace twixt the King of the Picts and the Scots; and to give the more authority to his proposals, did in their sight, by laying a cross uon the stone, imprint that figure thereon.” Such was, apparently, the tradition when Abercrummie wrote. It has also been attributed to Wallace as well as Bruce. The stone, which may at one time have been standing, lies apparently in the same position as it did in Abercrummie’s time.

Abercrummie was the Rev. Abercrummie of Maybole. He wrote ‘A description of Carrick’ in the 1680s. Here he’s being quoted by James Paterson in ‘History of the County of Ayr’ (1852).