Latest Folklore

Coflein is determined that this is a natural stone, which it surely is. It’s a big and noticeable one though, at 13ft 2ins by 10ft and 4ft 1in high, “and is a natural erratic, of blue augitic porphyrite.” But its presence has been linked in local consciousness with the once-present St Mary’s Chapel (of which no trace is now said to be), St Mary’s well, and the tradition of a burial site on the hill. The Coflein record also mentions rumours “that it was a ‘Druidical Alter’, or used for performing acts of mortification in connection with worship at the nearby chapel”. It’s interesting that the following quote mentions Special Protection afforded to the stone.

At a place called the Chapel Craigs, about half a mile from the village of Dunlop, there existed until lately the ruins of a chapel, which was dedicated to the Virgin Mary... It stood upon a rock, on the side of a rivulet, which was crossed by steps, called the lady’s steps – which steps, however, have been superseded by a bridge. A beautiful stream of water gushes from the rock.

The existence of this chapel has given name to a number of localities around. A few hundred yards south-west of the site of the chapel, on the gentle swell of the hill, is a Druidical stone, called the Thugart stane, supposed to be a corruption of the grit stane. It appears at one time or another to have been a rocking -stone. The base is so covered with rubbisth, that it has now lost its vibratory motion. It lies on the farm of Brandleside, and the tenant is bound in his tack to protect it, by neither removing it, nor cultivating the ground for a considerable number of square yards around it.

Above the site of the chapel, a pathway was cut out of the solid rock, leading to the top of the hill, where tradition says there was a burying-place belonging to the chapel. The pathway is nearly obliterated, a quarry having been opened in the place a number of years ago.

From ‘History of the County of Ayr’ by James Paterson (1852) p45.

The White Horse Stone is important because it reminds us of the Neolithic presence here: whilst the railway cutting was being dug, a Neolithic long house was found, with ‘and undefined bronze age timber circle plus a late bronze/early iron age settlement’. The stone is important, too, for the legends that have become attached to the stones, that now focus, inevitably, on this one, the only one that is left in this immediate spot. The Welsh historian Nennius (c. 800s AD) tells us that, in the mid-400s AD, after the withdrawal of the Roman legions from Britain (410 AD), the king who emerged in Kent (Ceint) was Guoyrancgonus (or Vorancgonus), of unknown origin, though more likely than not an elderly Roman military official who had stayed on, or the son of such a soldier. Guoyrancgonus’s rule was cut short by the High King, Vortigern, who gave Kent to the Jutish mercenary leader Hengist, in return for Hengist’s daughter Renwein.

For this and other outrages, Vortigern was deposed and his sons Vortimer and Catigern fashioned an army of the sons of the Romano-British, dusting off old, discarded standards and brushing rust off kit left behind by the Imperial legions, and set out to drive out the Jutes. History does not recall whether Guoyrancgonus was of their number, but I would like to think he was.

The North Downs are broken by a series of river valleys that flow south-north into the Thames, including the Darenth Valley and then, the next to the east, the Medway. The Romano-British brothers’ first battle was in the Darenth Valley and, against the odds, they were victorious. The Jutes fell back to the next river, the mighty Medway, making their stand at Aylesford, that the Jutes called Episford and the British, Nennius tells us, called Set Thirgabail. Here, the British princes made their second attack, their motley legion and cavalry routing the Jutes at the ford itself and driving the enemy back up the slope of the downs, if the legend is correct, to here, where the White Horse Stone stands. The date assigned to the battle by the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is 455 AD.

Here, Geoffrey of Monmouth relates, Horsa, the brother of Hengist, came face-to-face with Catigern: Germanic battle-axe clashed with Roman sword: each met its bloody mark, and both princes were slain. Horsa’s white horse standard came clattering down onto the now lost Kentish Standard Stone. A folk tale of a ghostly flaming horse and rider, said to be seen here sometimes, may recall the burning of the bodies after the battle. But Vortimer bore his slain brother Catigern up onto the crest of the downs and buried him in the Neolithic longbarrow that now bears his name – Kit’s Coty . Already some 2,000 years or more old, the longbarrow was 180 feet long, and contained, perhaps, several internal burial chambers of upright sarsens supporting capstones. It is all gone now, victim to rain and plough, all except one of set of three uprights, and a capstone. This stands alone, encircled by railings to keep the curious at bay, and looks out west (as the barrow itself did once) over the Medway Valley.

Having buried Catigern, Vortimer pressed east, trouncing Hengist’s army twice more, once, perhaps, at Stone near Faversham, and finally in the marshy desolation of Thanet, where the Jutes took refuge in their longboats and skulked away back to Jutland. The story ends tragically, however, for Renwein later poisoned Vortimer, her husband Vortigern regained the throne, and allowed Hengist and his following of Jutes, Angles and Saxons to return – this time, for all Aurelius Ambrosius and Arthur tried to emulate Vortimer – never to leave.

That is the story of the White Horse Stone, and Kit’s Coty, and the fall of Britain.

The Venerable Bitard and the Big Penis Videos

La Pierre Levée seems to have become entwined with Poitiers and this is recorded in the various legends and folklore connected with, and still lived out on the site.

One legend says that St. Radegonde , who is buried just over the river in …glise Ste-Radegonde, brought the huge capstone block on her head and the pillars in her apron. The church of Ste-Radegonde can be seen in the background on the 18th c. print of La Pierre Levée from Monuments Druidiques.

The other, more famous folklore comes from the writings of François Rabelais (c. 1494 – April 9, 1553) who was a major French Renaissance writer, doctor and Renaissance humanist. He has historically been regarded as a writer of fantasy, satire, the grotesque, and both bawdy jokes and songs.

Rabelais studied at the University of Poitiers and wrote The Life of Gargantua and Pantagruel (in French, La vie de Gargantua et de Pantagruel).

This is the story of two giants, the father (Gargantua) and his son (Pantagruel) and their adventures, written in an amusing, extravagant, satirical vein. There is much crudity and scatological humour as well as a large amount of violence.
Pantagruel was said to have snatched La Pierre Levée from a local cliff face and placed it in the Dunes, turning it into a banquet table for local scholars who, ‘when they have nothing else to do, pass the time by climbing up onto the stone and banqueting there with large quantities of bottles, hams and pastries, and inscribing their names on the capstone with a knife’. This was illustrated as early as 1561 in Georg Hoefnagel’s “Civitates orbis terratum”

Well things have moved on since then and every year around the spring equinox, a week long festival takes place called the 69th Student’s Semaine. This is overseen by the Bitards, a brotherhood of alcohol enthusiasts who keep alive the infamous Bitardbourg . Activities take place every day, such as the drunken parade to and from La Pierre Levée in honour of Pantagruel. Some of this material is for adults only but for a taste here is the big penis 2007

The Venerable Bitard (LST!)

The demigod of estudiants Poitiers has its origins in ancient times, when gods lived on Olympus. Juno, wife of Jupiter, leaped one day with a shepherd. The anger of her husband must have influenced the destiny: she gave birth in pain. His offspring was a monster head weasel, body of carp, turkey feathers, peacock feathers, wing rails and academic honours. This being, God by his mother, was the revered Bitard (LST!). But Juno, horrified by the sight of her divine child, hurled him over mountains and valleys. The latter fell in the forest of Liguge. For many miracles, he made known his divine nature to the natives. They paid him a cult and fought a shrine in his honor. In the fifth century, St. Martin converted many natives to their religion. The shrine became a convent. But insiders, rejecting the new ideas, fled into the woods with the relics of revered Bitard (LST!). They taught their religion to their children. Thus, over the centuries, their mysteries were sent to dignitaries of the Order of the revered Bitard (LST!). The cult is still celebrated “schoolboys faithful” at night and secret meetings which are allowed the dignitaries.
In addition, every year, around the spring equinox, the heart of a large gathering in the forest of Chanteloup, estudiants, guided by the College, engaged in hunting Bitard (Praised be He!) then back to Poitiers for the new Grand Bitardier through the city.

” So spectacular and remote is the monument that its construction was ascribed to either the Devil or Michael Scot, the great Medieval scholar who was reputed to command demons.”

Geoff Holder The Guide to the Mysterious Lake District (2009)

The information board gives two legends associated with this destroyed tumulus.

The first, and the source of the “Sacrifice” tag, suggests that the straight groove formed along the middle of the stone was used “aux sacrifices rituels et a la magic noire”, (for sacrifice rituals to do with black magic). Presumably the “victim” was sacrificed upon the stone and the blood would be collected as it dripped down the groove into a cup or chalice. This would point to the stone being in a more or less flat position when the tumulus was intact, possibly forming part of the capstone or roof.
The groove is hardly natural and does not travel the whole width of the stone. See enclosed photos. There was record of a Sheppard’s crook or Crosse being carved into one of the upright stones too. Whether this was ancient or done in the later Christian era is unclear, as is also if it survived the 19th century destruction. Maybe it was carved by the church authorities in order to “sanctify and purify” a pagan relic.

A much more ancient legend tells of the “petits hommes”, the little people who were said to inhabit the forest. They were said to have built the tumulus and made it there home. They were so strong that they could carry the enormous 15 tonne blocks with their bare hands. Maybe they were the faries and they could move the huge stones using their magic.

A Furness Diary 1801-1807 published by The Countryman in 1958.......

“Friday, May 24th 1801. About 100yds to the West of Urswick Church in Furness in a field called Kirkflat, adjoining to the highway, stands a rough piece of unhewn limestone, which the Inhabitants of Urswick were accustomed to dress as a Figure of Priapus on Midsummer Day, besmearing it with Sheep Salve, Tar or Butter and covering it with rags of various Dyes, the Head ornamented with flowers.”

Here’s an alternative name for the circles I’d not come across before.

The range is still called “Priddy Nine Barrows.” They stand out boldly on the ridge of the hill as you look towards Wells on the road thither from East and West Harptree [...]

Within a quarter mile south of this line, is another range of seven barrows [...]

Near them are some circular banks, called by the peasants “The Castles;” the diameters of which are each 500 feet, the mound is low, and they have no external ditch. They are a quarter of a mile from the barrows opened, and about 250 feet distant from each other.

From the Archaeological Journal, v16 (1859) p150 (in the Rev. Harry M Scarth’s Account of the Investigation of Barrows).

Welcome to another of my speculative posts. But I like to think this one’s got something going for it. Ifan Gruffydd was a farmhand, also an author of two books of memoirs. He was born in Llangristiolus in 1896, so it seems highly likely to me that when he talks about

Did your mother believe in the fairies?
Well, I can’t say if she believed or not, but she would give me the impression that she did. And that impression, of course, caused me to believe. Yes to believe firmly in the fairies and to take a keen interest in them, although I would be afraid of them. And you’d be in trouble if you came across the fairies, or they came across you, in some enclosure or wood where they lived. And they lived in many places. They lived in Coed yr Henblas (Henblas Wood), as we say. And in the cave – Ogof Pitar Graen (Peter Green’s Cave) we used to call it. Well, the fairies were there. There was no argument about that. But, of course, they wouldn’t be out all the time. Sometimes when it was quiet the fairies would play outside the cave’s door, so they said. And the old people used to say that they always had their eye on small children – if they could get hold of them. If they caught a young child, they would take it inside the cave and keep it for a year and a day.

More notes on the story are here at the Museum of Wales site:

In the printed version of this story Ifan Gruffydd stated that he was around seven to eight years old when he first saw the little family on Christmas Day, and he calls the cave ‘Yr Ogof Fawr’ [’The Great Cave’]. In his reminiscences on tape, however, when questioned further about the cave he made this comment:

‘We call it ‘Ogof Pitar Graen’ [“Peter Green’s Cave”]. Some old boy called Peter Green had been living there, you see. Well, the old cave was frequented by many people such as those I’ve mentioned to you. The occasional tramp, you see, making his home in the cave for a week, say, or a fortnight, or sometimes for the whole winter. Venturing out to gather what food he could in the countryside... and some were craftsmen who could go round the farms asking whether they needed tools sharpening, or dishes mended – wooden dishes I mean now... An old tailor, perhaps, wandering. Well, no one would know how he’d come to be in that state... I saw many a family, too, who’d seen better times.‘

I’m happy to be disproved, but it seems a reasonable assumption to me? Here https://www.museumwales.ac.uk/en/folktales/stories/?id=7 he tells the story of how as a boy he fell in love with a girl who lived at the cave. Or Was She A Fairy. Etc.

Campville – formerly known as Lanternside – the shooting box of Major Thompson of Walworth Hall, Darlington, stands about a quarter of a mile west from Holystone, on the verge of a romantic gorge, and within the lines of an ancient camp, the ramparts of which are quite distinct in the field below the house. A Roman causeway, leading from Rochester, Redewater, passes through a portion of the camp. In the deep ravine close to the house, where the Dove Crag burn tumbles and tosses in a series of waterfalls, there is a cave-like recess, known as “Rob Roy’s Cave.” The cavern is only accessible by a very narrow path along the face of the rock, other means of ingress being entirely closed by the lofty cliffs overhead.

If you follow the burn back to its source, there’s a big waterfall, and “in days gone by, this was reputed to be one of the favourite haunts of the Fairies, and stories were told by the country folk of belated travellers when near the spot at the ‘witching time of night’ having been spell-bound by the sweet entrancing music of the little elves, while in the midst of their midnight revels at the foot of the Dove Crag.”

From ‘Upper Coquetdale, Northumberland: its history, traditions, folk-lore and scenery’ by D D Dixon (1903).

A tiny addition about the adjacent lough’s traditions.

...a footpath leads up past the Drake Stone to Harbottle Lough, a lonely eerie tarn in the hollow of the hills – a stretch of long heather and sphagnum marks an old extension of the lake. The west end of the lough is packed with a dense growth of buckbean, horsetail, and rushes. The water is always pure and very cold – so cold that it was said to be certain death to attempt to swim across. We, however, know of several who have performed the feat and are still alive to tell the tale. A number of large round blocks of sandstone is to be seen lying about on the top of the hill; these are rejected mill-stones, which puzzle strangers very much as to their origin.

From ‘Upper Coquetdale, Northumberland: its history, traditions, folk-lore and scenery’ by D D Dixon (1903).

Having been informed by Mr. Geo. Turnbull, the farmer at Great Tosson, that there was a very large cairn on the northern slopes of Ravensheugh, just below two standing stones, called by the country people “Kate” and “Geordie,“* under his guidance, we proceeded to the spot, and found an enormous pile of stones on a projecting ridge, having a steep declivity in front with the hill rising behind. The cairn measured 27 feet from E. to W., and 30 feet from N. to S.

Their digging uncovered a cist, and a stone with possible cup-marks was found near the centre of the cairn. Well, he thought it might have them anyway, comparing it to ‘the markings on the rocks at Lordenshaw’s camp’. You can see a picture here.

From ‘Upper Coquetdale, Northumberland: its history, traditions, folk-lore and scenery’ by D D Dixon (1903).

*elsewhere in the book he says the stones ‘probably got their names during the hundred years the Donkins ruled at Tosson’.

In local folklore the Hawk Stone formed an integral part of a stone circle here, but there is little known evidence to substantiate this. In Thorn Graves’ (1980) dowsing experiments at the Rollright circle, he found what he described as an ‘overground’ linking the Circle to the Hawk Stone, but no other connecting sites are known along this line. Interestingly one legend surrounding the monolith tells how this monolith was thrown, or dragged, across the land by a old witch or hag, though we are not told from where- a motif found in connection with spirit lines across the country.

In Corbett’s History of Spelsbury (1962) the author referenced some of the folklore spoken of the holed Hawk Stone by one Mr Caleb Lainchbury who said the cleft at the top of the Hawk Stone at Dean was supposed to have been made by the chains of the witches who were tied to it and burnt. As witches seem to have been extremely rare in Oxfordshire it cannot have been a very common practise to burn them at Dean; but there may have been some kind of fire ceremonies near the stone. In name, Hawk stone may come from a fancied resemblence to a Hawk, or because there very often are hawks hovering over those upland fields: or it may simply be a corruption of ‘Hoar’ meaning old.

In pagan Celtic Britain hawks played a not inconsiderable part in their shamanic lore and,according to Ross [1967] were “malevolent birds”. This evidently important and visually impressive monolith plays a substantial part in an incredibly precise alignment (ley) running roughly east-west across the landscape.

easyweb.easynet.co.uk/aburnham/eng/hawk_stone.htm

The ‘Magic’ map shows an iron age settlement here at the edge of Bomere Pool, though no details are given yet. But it’s interesting that folklore seems to know about this long-lost place. You can read the stories in Hope’s ‘Legendary Lore’ on Feorag’s site on holy wells (Hope is actually quoting Charlotte Burne’s 1879 ‘Shropshire Folklore’).

One story talks about a village full of heathens who didn’t want their winter festival spoilt by a Christian priest nagging them – the village got completely flooded as comeupance. If you sail over the mere on Christmas eve at midnight though, you can here a church bell ringing.

Another story talks of a Roman soldier, similarly trying to make the ungrateful wicked locals repent. There’s a love interest in this version, because the British governor’s daughter is a good christian girl. At Easter Caer Caradoc apparently ‘sent forth flames of fire’ and the town was flooded. Unfortunately the soldier’s betrothed didn’t get spared, and when he rowed across the mere in search of her, he was drowned too. How very depressing.

The mere’s bottomless by the way. And it contains a fish wearing a sword. No really. It’s a bit of a complicated tale so I’ll let you read that yourself.

From
legendarydartmoor.co.uk/scorhill.htm

A modern happening reported in 1998 was that a small herd of moorland ponies were seen to walk up to the circle. The herd leader entered the ring of stones and stood there for about a minute, it then rejoined the rest of the ponies. One by one all the ponies did the same thing, went into the circle stood there for 30 – 60 seconds and the came out. All the animals faced the same direction whilst they were stood in the stone ring. It was suggested at the time that the ponies were ‘taking energy’ from the stones – who knows?

A story which possibly reinforces the ‘natural energy’ theory is that of a lady who for six and a half years had suffered with a swelling in the knee. This made walking difficult to say the least. Many doctors had examined the joint but none were able to solve the problem. Living in the Chagford area the woman was aware of the stories relating to Scorhill circle, so one day she made a slow and painful trip up to the stones. Having sat inside the circle for a while she then made her way back, by the time she had reached Scorhill Gate the swelling had reduced by 50%. By and by the ability to walk soon returned and the swelling has caused few problems ever since.

The image of an unidentified man dressed in black is said to be seen standing just outside the stone circle after dark. According to legend, the 9 stones are witches caught dancing on the Sabbath to the sounds of the Devil’s fiddle playing. In this view,the man in black could be the Devil admiring his handiwork. It is also said that when the moon is full, the stones move around in a ritual dance.

chris-moss.net/homesweethome/ancientbritain.html

TRIBE website

Boscawen-ûn; Cornish name derived from bod, “dwelling or farmstead” and scawen, “elder tree”. The suffix –un comes from goon, “downland or unenclosed pasture”.

Folklore has it that Boscawen-ûn is a circle created by maidens dancing on the Sabbath being turned to stone. Whilst this story is attractive, perhaps more credible is the possibility of Boscawen-ûn being one of the three Gorsedds, or Druid Meeting Places, of Britain. The Welsh Triads which date back to around the 6th Century AD record “Boskawen of Dumnonia” as being one of the “Gorsedds of Poetry of the Island of Britain”. Certainly the circle is still an important spiritual meeting place for local Pagan groups and ritual offerings are still placed here.

- From Historic-Cornwall website
historic-cornwall.org.uk/a2m/bronze_age/stone_circle/boscawen_un/boscawen_un.htm

Lots of different fairy and devil tales for this one. One story tells of a local miner finding a Fairy Feast at the circle and was bound in gossamer thread and left there all night.There is another involving pixies enticing passers by and hosting “Little Folk” parties with dancing! There are stories of actual encounters with the Devil on nearby Carn Kenidjack, which dominates the horizon.

E.T. Cowling in “Rombalds Way” (1946) describing the Tree of life stone, records that ......

“it is one of the few known to local inhabitants, and marks the site of many May day religious services.” Mayday folklore and customs have often been related to promoting fertility in people, animals and the land. Perhaps there is a link to Yorkshires’ other carved stone The Fertility Stone

Lomond Hills Easter and Wester.
These isolated heights were called by the old Highlanders “Wallace’s Goals,” because the national hero was held to be capable of jumping from the one summit to the other.

Probably from J W Jack’s 1890s ‘Glenfarg and District’, but quoted in ‘Examples of Printed Folklore’ by E S John.

There’s lots of stone-related folklore up here and stoney things with strange names, such as the crags called the Devil’s Burdens and Wind and Weather. There’s the Bonnet Stone (Bunnet Stane) which from this photo looks totally mad. And there’s a story about Maiden Bore rock:

Directly below the steep verdant base of the highest peak or top of the hill, where it begins to subside into a plain, there is a cluster of free stone rocks which jut out from under the base of the hill close beside it, with a large perforation through the rock called the Maiden-bore, because maidens only were supposed capable of passing through it. The passage had been originally very small, yet it is now so enlarged, in consequence of so many people trying to pass, or rather to creep through it, that it will now admit the most bulky person.

Seems a bit of an odd explanation but whatever. This is from Small’s ‘Interesting Roman Antiquities’ (1823). The link above has folklore about ‘Maiden’s Bower’ which sounds a suspiciously similar noise, but the bower is a cave where she used to hang out.

At the back of the house [known as Ffynnon Beuno] ran a narrow valley which terminated in the Craig Fawr (Great Rock). [...] Tremeirchion, literally translated, means the Maiden’s Town, and was so named from a convent which stood in its vicinity, and was supposed to be the refuge chosen by St. Winifred, when she retired with a company of virgins after her revivification by good St. Beuno at Holywell. Compared with the famous spring of St. Winifred’s at Holywell, that of St. Beuno is a modest affair, and boasts of no virtues beyond purity and sweetness. The water is collected in a stone tank adjoining the house of Ffynnon Beuno, and is allowed to escape, for the benefit of the villagers, through the open mouth of a rude representation of a human head, which is affixed in the front wall.

From the Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley (1909) – as in ‘Livingstone-I-presume’-Stanley, who as a boy spent some miserable time in the nearby workhouse at St Asaph. Ffynnon Bueno is ‘Beuno’s Spring’, whereas Cae Gwyn is ‘White Field’ (maybe even with a touch of white = pure and spiritual, who knows).

From Archaeologia Cambrensis (1858):

Martin Davy’s Stone, near Haverfordwest.--

About half-way between Haverfordwest and Little Haven, on the southern side of the road where it crosses a common, is a small upright stone, not larger than a mile-stone. Tradition calls it Martin Davy’s Stone, and says that a man of this name, who had stolen a sheep one night, and was carrying it on his head, with its four feet tied together, sat down in front of this stone to rest himself, and let the animal lie on the top. The sheep, however, gave a convulsive movement; its legs slipped down in front of the man’s throat, and its body slipped down behind the stone. The thief could not, of course, raise the body up sufficiently high, and he was found throttled, and dead, in this position.

The text with Ceridwen’s photo on Geograph has the idea that the stone’s properly prehistoric. Coflein isn’t so sure. It’s on a boundary, about a metre high, and has two crosses carved on it.

From Archaeologia Cambrensis (1858), in an article about the history of Radnorshire:

Near to the above-mentioned place, Cwystudwen [Gwastedyn, Nantmel], are two remarkable carns, named Carnwen, and Carnfach, that is, the white and the little carn, each being of an elliptical form, and having in the centre an erect stone of superior magnitude ...

On the eastern extremity of this hill, and on a farm named Gifron, is a place which the common people distinguish by the appellation Gwar-y-beddau, that is, the ridge of graves; it consists of three mounds, or elevations, in which tradition reports three brothers, who, returning from the wars, quarrelled, fought, and fell by each others’ swords, were interred.

In Coflein’s description, Carn Wen is described as a much robbed cairn with a bouldered kerb and a possible cist. ‘A battle-axe, a bracelet and some other relics’ were found in 1844. The three cairns in the folklore are said to be 20-110m to the north east. Coflein calls the other cairn ‘The Druid’s Circle’ – it might be a prehistoric enclosure with a roundhouse inside.

They are mentioned in Camden’s Britannia (originally published 1607, this from the 1722 edition):

On the top of a hill, call’d Gwastedin, near Rhaiadr Gwy, there are three large heaps of stones, of that kind which are common upon mountains in most (if not all) the Counties of Wales; call’d in South-Wales Karneu, and in North-Wales Karned-heu. They consist of such [?] stones from a pound weight to a hundred, &c. as the neighbouring places afford; and are confusedly pil’d up without any farther trouble than the bringing them thither, and the throwing them in heaps.

... Beith was the occasional residence of St Inan, a confessor of some celebrity, whose principal place of abode was at Irvine. He flourished about 839. On the Cuff Hill there is a cleft in the rock, which is still called St Inan’s Chair; and, at a short distance from it, a well of excellent water, called St Inan’s Well. From the Callendar of Scots Saints, we find that the festival of this saint was celebrated on the 18th of August; and to this day there is a fair at Beith, held on the corresponding day, old style. Tradition still bears that this fair used to be held on the Cuff Hill. It was removed to Beith after the town had increased in population, and become a more suitable place for a market. It is one of the principal fairs in the county. The fair is vulgarly pronounced Tenant’s Day; but this is evidently a corruption arising from the final letter of Saint, being sounded with the name Inan. Similar corruptions occur in Tantony, which is a corruption of St Antony; and Taudrey, which is a corruption of St Audrey. [...]

But the Cuff Hill has antiquities much earlier than the days of St Inan. On the north declivity of the hill, there is a rocking-stone of considerable size, which can be set in motion by the slightest touch. This stone is of common trap.

From the New Statistical Account for Ayr and Bute (1845).

Gruagach, a supernatural female who presided over cattle and took a kindly interest in all that pertained to them. In return a libation of milk was made to her when the women milked the cows in the evening. If the oblation were neglected, the cattle, notwithstanding all precautions, were found broken loose and in the corn; and if still omitted, the best cow in the fold was found dead in the morning. The offering was poured on ‘clach na gruagaich,’ the ‘gruagach’ stone. There is hardly a district in the Highlands which does not possess a ‘leac gruagaich’ – a ‘gruagach’ flagstone [...]

The following account was given to me by a woman at West Bennan in Arran in August 1895:

The ‘gruagach’ lived at East Bennan in a cave which is still called ‘uamh na gruagaich’ – cave of the ‘gruagach’, and ‘uamh na beiste’ – cave of the monster. She herded the cattle of the townland of Bennan, and no spring-loss, no death-loss, no mishap, no murrain, ever befell them, while they throve and fattened and multiplied right well.

The ‘gruagach’ would come forth with the radiant sun, her golden hair streaming on the morning breeze, and her rich voice filling the air with melody. She would wait on a grassy hillock afar off till the people would bring out their ‘creatairean,’ creatures, crooning a lullaby the while, and striding to and fro [...*]

The people of Bennan were so pleased with the tender care the ‘gruagach’ took of their corn and cattle that they resolved to give her a linen garment to clothe her body and down sandals to cover her feet. They placed these on a knoll near the ‘gruagach’ and watched from afar. But instead of being grateful she was offended, and resented their intrusion so much that she determined to leave the district. She placed her left foot on Ben Bhuidhe in Arran and her right foot on ‘Allasan,’ Ailsa Craig, making this her stepping-stone to cross to the mainland of Scotland or to Ireland. While the ‘gruagach’ was in the act of moving her left foot, a three-masted ship passed beneath, the mainmast of which struck her in the thigh and overturned her into the sea. The people of Bennan mourned the ‘gruagach’ long and loudly, and bewailed their own officiousness.

*There’s a song here. But as it’s long and Mr Carmichael was allegedly quite Creative when it came to Tradition, I’m leaving it out. You can see it on google books though in v1/2 of ‘Carmina Gadelica’ by Alexander Carmichael (1900). The huffy behaviour after being given clothing as a present sounds reminiscent of the behaviour of a Hob-Thrush.

The fort on Rubers Law is actually R*man it seems. But there have been plenty of finds of stone arrowheads and so on up here, according to the RCAHMS database.

It’s a very prominent isolated hill and has lots of Named Features, like Peden’s Pulpit:

We have said that Ruberslaw is memorable in Scottish story. It is so in one of its bloodiest and saddest pages. Its hollow dells and rocky recesses were the ‘hiding-places’ of the persecuted Covenanters; and upon its weird summit tradition still points out the stone upon which the martyr-preacher, Alexander Peden, laid his Bible when he poured forth his dauntless and fiery ‘message’ to our eager-listening and right-hearted forefathers.

The same article (in July 1853’s ‘Gentleman’s Magazine’) describes how the ‘stormy Ruberslaw’ assumes a grand and starling appearance when its top pokes through the rolling sheets of fog that hide its lower slopes. The weather is also mentioned in local rhyme, as recorded by William and Robert Chambers in their Edinburgh Journal v3, in 1835:

When Ruberslaw puts on his cowl,
The Dunion on his hude,
Then a’ the wives o’ Teviotside
Ken there will be a flude.

There’s also a “cavity cut in an earthfast block of freestone on the east side of Ruberslaw, vulgarly called ‘Simmie’s pottie’ but whether this would be used as a baptismal font or a knocking trough [for removing barley husks] is uncertain” (as you’ll see here ). It also has a holy well of St Mary’s.