Latest Folklore

A man named Timothy in the parish of Llanarth, Cardiganshire, told me that an old woman known as Nancy Tynllain and her son, Shenkin Phillips, had seen the Tylwyth Teg (fairies) on one occasion. Nancy died over sixty years ago. She and her son one day left home rather early in the morning, as they were going to Cynon’s Fair, and had some distance to go. As they proceeded on their horses in the direction of Wilgarn, they saw the Fairies, mounted on small horses, galloping round and round as in a circle round about a certain hillock, and Nancy took particular notice that one of the Fairy women had a red cloak on. As the old woman and her son were looking on, watching the movements of the Fairies, Nancy remarked, “That Fairy woman over there rides very much like myself.” This was at early dawn.

A red cloak is a common fairy fashion, but I can’t shed light on Nancy’s other interesting remark. I think it’s fairly likely the ‘certain hillock’ is Whilgarn itself, but that this wouldn’t have been realised by the person recording the story if they didn’t know Whilgarn was a mound, it might sound like a village.
From ‘Folk-lore of West and Mid-Wales’ by John C Davies (1911).

Another somewhat speculative site, but these stones are marked on the map and might be worth checking out. They’re also near a Burnt Mound which is on the banks of the very close-by stream.

On a level field on the farm of Mosscobin, betwixt the Kirk of Anwoth and Skyreburn village, there lately remained, or may still remain, two large stones which bear the name of Rutherford’s Witnesses.

The reason why such a name was given stands as follows:- The people of Anwoth, ere [Rev. Samuel] Rutherford was settled among them, had frequently assembled there on the Sabbath evenings to play at football. Rutherford not only denounced this practice from the pulpit, but frequently followed them, and reproved on the spot; he called on the objects around, particularly on three large stones to witness betwixt them and him, that, however they might continue such practices, he had done his duty.

The history of the removal of the third stone is curious. A person employed in building a fence, wished to avail himself of these stones ; a fellow labourer ordered him to desist, warning him of the danger of touching such sacred relics; the other persisted, and even jeered Rutherford as a fanatic. He removed one of the stones, and swore that he would remove them all before he broke his fast. In attempting the second stone, hoever, he fell down dead; or as another tradition says, he was choked with a bite of bread which he attempted to swallow while applying his punch to the sacred stone.

Rutherford sounds like a barrel of laughs, haranging the poor locals on their day off at the Sunday five-a-side. And note the usual stoney folklore. Which makes me wonder at the stones’ original purpose, you see. Because you can’t go nicking a bit of an outcrop easily, for one thing.

From ‘Unique Traditions Chiefly of the West and South of Scotland’ by J G Barbour (1886).

Carlins Cairn seems to be the current name of the mountain, as well as the name of the cairn.

This cairn is perched upon the summit of the Kells Rhynns, and may be discerned at 15 miles distance to the south. Some say it was thrown together to commemorate the burning of a witch – others, that it was erected on the spot where an old female Covenanter was murdered by Grierson of Lag. [...] Yet the foundation of the cairn can boast of a much older date than the persecution under Charles the Second, for it was collected by a venerable old woman, who at one period was the protrectress and hostess of King Robert the Bruce.

He goes on to describe at some length, how the King found himself hiding incognito at the miller’s house, and how the miller’s wife sussed who he was, kept him safe, topped him up with honest peasant food, and concealed him when his enemies turned up. (from ‘Unique Traditions Chiefly of the West and South of Scotland‘ by J G Barbour (1886).

A carline is a Scottish word for a woman, particularly an old one, it’s not very flattering and was (according to the OED) ‘applied particularly to a witch or one charged with being such’. And from there it’s not a huge leap to the similar word cailleach, and maybe the whole mountain can be hers then. It’s the first of November today, so the first day when she’ll be taking charge from her summery alter ego up there.

Robert Burns’ poem ‘Tam o’Shanter’ is about a bloke who gets repeatedly boozed up when he goes to the market. And on his way home late one night, he passes a church and looks in, and all sorts of dreadful stuff is going on inside, and the devil accompanying it all on the bagpipes. But stupidly he draws attention to himself, and has to gallop off to escape. His horse is just on the bridge and they’re nearly safe – because if you can get across the middle of a stream of running water, you’re ok – but the witch at the front reaches out her hand, and his poor horse loses her tail.
robertburns.org.uk/Assets/Poems_Songs/tamoshanter.htm

Well that’s the poem. But this hill is where it Really Happened, honest.

The man involved was an Adam Forester, or maybe Foster, and he didn’t shake the witches so easily – although he got across a stream they used a bridge downstream (these witches could use bridges, which seems reasonable) and caught up with him on Waterside Hill.

Finding that neither he nor his horse could get a foot farther, the determined fugitive alighted, and unsheathing a sword, on whose blade was engraven the sacred name of Jehovah, he twice waved it around him, and then describing a circle with its point on the sward, he charged, in the name of God, his pursuers not to overstep that circle. The mysterious band – furious as they were – stood, as mysteriously arrested. They had no power to overpass the circle; – but surrounding it, menaced the horseman until a neighbouring cock crew, when one of the most inveterate of the gang drew a large knife from beneath her apron, cut the horse’s tail, which, it seems, hung beyond the verge of the sacred circle. They then scampered off; and the horseman, standing firm in the ring with the drawn sword still in his hand, awaited the day-break, and then, renewing the circle, and giving thanks to his Maker, he rode home to his residence.

[...] Certain it is, that Foster, as long as he lived, and his sons and grandsons after him, made a point of renewing the circle annually.

From ‘Unique Traditions Chiefly of the West and South of Scotland’ by J G Barbour (1886).

But I’d like to bet that the circle on Waterside Hill is really the cairn. But someone will have to go and have a look to answer that.

Round Tynron Doon there linger memories of a spectre in the form of a headless horseman restlessly riding a black horse.

The local tradition is, that the ghost was that of a young gentleman of the family of McMilligan of Dalgarnock, who had gone to offer his addresses to the daughter of the Laird of Tynron Castle. His presence was objected to, however, by one of the young lady’s brothers. Hot words followed, and in high wrath the suitor rode off; but mistaking his way he galloped over the steepest part of the hill and broke his neck, and so, with curses and words of evil on his very lips, his spirit was not allowed to pass untroubled to the realms beyond.

You can see that that’s not a terribly good explanation of him being headless, unless he had a very bad landing. This is from ‘Witchcraft and superstitious record in the south-western district of Scotland’ by J Maxwell Wood (1911), which it has to be said is a rather imaginative tome.

It’s also mentioned in the otherwise serious sounding ‘Archaeology of late Celtic Britain and Ireland’ by L R Laing (1975), with a ‘possible’ and less romantic explanation more satisfying to the celtic new age mindset:
Tynron Doon is a well-preserved multivallate hillfort in Dumfriesshire, associated in local legend with the ‘heidless horseman’ who is supposed to have ridden down from it as an omen of death, a story which possibly has some origin in a Celtic head cult.

It’s true. As usual I don’t even know if this exists any more, and I don’t know where it is if it does. But someone liked it enough to give it a proper name. It gets an elaborate mention in the Denham Tracts:

When ye lang for a mutton bone
Think on the Wedderstone.

The Wedderstone stands in a field near the village of Catton in Allendale. Tradition states that many years ago a notorious sheep-stealer infested this part of the county, who, it appears, was the terror of the whole of the neighbouring farmers; in the first place because he appeared to be a good judge of mutton, from the fact of his generally taking the choice of the flock; and in the secon place, that, although he paid a visit to every sheep-fold for several miles around, and to many where a strict watch was kept, he remained unsuspected; neither was there the slightest suspicion as to who the thief might be.

At length, however, the invisible became visible. It appeared that his method of carrying off his booty was to tie the four legs of the animal together, and then, by putting his head through the space between the feet and body, thus carry it away on his shoulders. On his last visit to his neighbour’s flock, the animal which he had selected for his week’s provision being heavy, he stopped to rest himself, and placed his burden upon the top of a small stone column (without taking it off his shoulders), when the animal became suddenly restive, commenced struggling, and slipped off the stone on the opposite side. Its weight thus suddenly drawn round his neck, the poor wretch was unable to extricate himself, and was found on the following morning quite dead.

Of course, the story is connected with many a stone across the country. Mr Grinsell wrote a whole article about them in Folklore v96 (1985). He said ‘The author has found no supporting evidence for the site of this stone’, but it does seem curious that Catton has its Stone Hall and Stone Stile. But I can’t see any stone on the old maps. Still. You never know.

As Postman’s photo explains, this was said to be the cell of the Red Priest, whose Stone lies nearby. The Red Priest is supposed to be St. Maolrubha, who was busy evangelising in these parts in the 7th century. He prophesied that the population of Strathnaver would be driven from here for their sins, and would not be able to return until his bones had been washed out to sea.

This page at the

[There is a tradition] regarding the Sandy dun at Bettyhill, where an old woman hid a croc of cold previous to the dun being attacked, and measured the distance from it with a clew of thread.

A disappointingly brief mention in ‘Notes of Cromlechs, Duns, Hut-Circles, Chambered Cairns and other remains, in the County of Sutherland’ by James Horsburgh, in PSAS v7 (1866-8).

Information about the broch can be found here.

To the west [is] Loch-an-Hacon, or as it is generally called Loch-an-Haalkal, in which is an island with the remains of a castle on it, said to have been built by Hacon for a hunting seat [...] it is said that a causeway ran from the island to the mainland, a distance of 20 or 30 yards; the water is now, however, 6 or 7 feet deep. On the edge of the preciptious bank of the loch, and exactly opposite the island, there is a large boulder with a flat top, and on this there are a number of cups and rings. The people say they were made by the high heels of a fairy who lived in the castle. This stone is not generally known. Old Ross, the gamekeeper at Tongue, first told me of it, and he and I scraped off the moss and exposed the whole. He thought it was for playing some game. On the left of the stone, on a bit separated by a crack, there is a sort of a figure which appears to have been formed by cutting away the stone around it and leaving it in relief, and also some artificial cutting on the right, a sort of circular groove.

From ‘Notes of Cromlechs, Duns, Hut-Circles, Chambered Cairns and other remains, in the County of Sutherland’ by James Horsburgh, in PSAS v7 (1866-8).

[There was] an old ruined church in the neighbourhood of the farm where he was shepherd. It was roofless, more than half fallen down, and all the standing portion, with the tower, overgrown with old ivy; the building itself stood in the centre of a huge round earth-work and trench, with large barrows on the ground outside the circle. Concerning this church [Caleb] had a wonderful story: its decay and ruin had come about after the great bell in the tower had mysteriously disappeared, stolen one stormy night, it was believed, by the Devil himself. The stolen bell, it was discovered, had been flung into a small river at a distance of some miles from the church, and there in summertime when the water was low, it could be distinctly seen lying half buried in the mud at the bottom. But all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t pull it out; the Devil, who pulled the other way, was strongest. Eventually some wise person said that a team of white oxen would be able to pull it out, and after much seeking the white oxen were obtained, and thick ropes were tied to the sunken bell, and the cattle were goaded and yelled at, and tugged and strained until the bell came up and was finaly drawn right up to the top of the steep, cliff-like bank of the stream. Then one of the teamsters shouted in triumph, “Now we’ve got out the bell, in spite of all the devils in hell,” and no sooner had he spoken the bold words than the ropes parted, and back tumbled the bell to its old place at the bottom of the river, where it remains to this day. Caleb had once met a man in those parts who assured him that he had seen the bell with his own eyes, lying nearly buried in mud at the bottom of the stream.

From ‘A Shepherd’s Life; impressions of the South Wiltshire downs’ (1921), by WH Hudson.

This mound – cairn? – doesn’t get a spot on the Magic map, so I admit I can’t comment on its prehistoricness. But there are so many other prehistoric cairns in the vicinity, perhaps it really is one.

Robin Hood’s Grave is an oblong mound, seven yards by three. It is situated at the bottom of a narrow rocky dell at the head of Crosby Gill, where the footpath from Orton to Crosby enters the woods, once the chase of Sir Lancelot Threlkeld. It is noticed by Mr Sullivan in his “Cumberland and Westmorland,” but he speaks of two heaps: this is, however, a mistake, there being only one. Of this mound he says “It was once customary for every person who went a-nutting in the wood, at the south end of which this heap is situated, to throw a stone on Robin’s grave, repeating the following rhyme:-

Robin Hood, Robin Hood, here lie thy bones;
Load me with nuts as I load thee with stones.”

From ‘The Vale of Lyvennet’ by J S Bland, published 1910.

Pryfaid means flies in modern Welsh, but in old Welsh it means animals or sometimes livestock.

“In [Finglenny] there is a ‘mound’ known as the Wormie Hillock, which has long been regarded as one of the interesting sights of the place. Legend tells us it is the grave-mound of a dragon, which at one time infested the neighbourhood, and was slain at this spot by some unknown St. George.”

From ‘Place Names in Strathbogie, with notes historical, antiquarian and descriptive’, by James MacDonald (1891).

“Cross, on foot, a large plain of ground, seemingly improvable, but covered with a deep heath, and perfectly in a state of nature........After a walk of four miles, reach the paps (mountains in the centre of Jura): left the lesser to the south-east, preferring the ascent of the greatest, for there are three : Beinn-a-Chalaois, or ‘the mountain of the sound’; Beinn Sheunta, or ‘the hallowed mountain’; and Beinn-an-Oir, or ‘the mountain of gold’.”

Tour Of Scotland 1772
Thomas Pennant.

People at Curbar in Derbyshireused to set bowls of cream on the hill-tops where they thought that the fairies mostly dwelt. The cream was always drunk, but the fairies were never seen.

‘Household tales with other traditional remains’ p141, by S O Addy (185).

The remarkable megalithic monument to which I refer is situated on the apex of the knock [Knockmany], and is usually styled “Aynia’s Cove.” Of late years a very great change has occurred in the character of the neighbouring population. Here was the country from which Carleton painted his word-pictures of Irish life and scenery. But “old times are changed, old manners gone.” As a rule, within the last thirty years or so the Irish of the district have either died out or emigrated, giving place to strangers, usually Scotchmen. Nevertheless, some little of the old folk-lore, once so prevalent amongst the aborigines, is still extant, and Aynia is remembered as a “witch-wife” bythe Scotch, and as a calliagh, or hag, by the Irish. With all, the hill is a fairy haunt, and woe betide the man, woman, or child, who would dare to lift or break the smallest of the stones which now remain of the “Cove” in which Aynia, who is reported to have been elected queen of the “wee people,” is said to have long delighted.

In ‘The Megalithic Sepulchral Chamber of Knockmany, County Tyrone’ by W F Wakeman, in the Journal of the Royal Historical and Archaeological Association of Ireland for 1879. Wakeman also mentions that Knockmany (’half mountain, half knock’) is a ‘most conspicuous eminence’ and ‘so effectually surmounts all sheltering hills that it is said a day never comes there is not at least a breeze on its summit.‘

Stanton Drew and folklore

The following which is taken from John Wood’s book A Description of Bath of 1765 describes the superstition that lay round the Wedding stones of Stanton Drew as seen by the local people. People being turned to stone, and also drinking from the stones, which is a slightly different aspect of the story.

John Wood had a weird and wonderful theory about Stanton Drew and Druids, that belongs elsewhere, but in writing his book he gave valuable information as to the the existence of the two Tyning stones, and another folklore story about Hakill the Giant who in good giant tradition threw The Coit from Maes Knoll, a hill situated west from Stanton Drew, which also encompasses Maes Knoll Hillfort and the great Wansdyke barrier which either divided two kingdoms in the late British Iron Age or was some form of defense. The work of giants perhaps recognised by our 18th century inhabitants but not rationalised as they are today!

Stanton Drew in the County of Somerset
That’s where the Devil played at Sue’s request,
They paid the price for dancing on a Sunday.
Now they are standing evermore at rest.

The Wedding Stones
“The remains of this model bear the name of The Wedding, from a tradition that as a woman was going to be married, she and the rest of the company were changed into the stones of which they consist “No one,” says the Country People about Stantondrue, was ever able to reckon the “number of these metamorphosed Stones”, or to take “a draught of them” or tho’ several have attempted to do both, and proceeded till they were either struck dead upon the spot, or with such an illness as soon carried them off.
This was seriously told to me when I began to a Plan of them (the stones) on the 12th August 1740 to deter me from proceeding: And as a storm accidentally arose just after, and blew down part of a Great Tree near the body of the work, the people were then thoroughly satisfied that I had disturbed the Guardian Spirits of the metamorphosed Stones, and from thence great pains were taken to convince me of the Impiety of intent I was about.

Hakim’s Quoit

Large flat stone called Hakill on the north-east side of the river by which Stantondrue is situated: And this stone tho’ greatly delapidated is till ten feet long, six feet broad, near two feet thick, and lies about 1860 feet from the centre of the circle.

....Now if we draw a line from the centre of the Circle D, to the centre of the Circle B and produce it westward 992 feet, it will terminate on three stones in a garden (Druid Arms now) by the parish church of Stantondrue: two of which stones are erect, and the other lies flat on the ground............. it will terminate on two stone lying flat on the ground in a field call the Lower-Tining (stones now vanished).

In plowing the ground of Maes Knoll as well as that of Solsbury Hill, the people frequently turned up burnt stones, and often find other Marks to prove each Place to have been long inhabited: the former, according to a Tradition among the people of the Country thereabouts, was the Residence of one Hakill, a Giant, who is reported to have toss’d the Coit that make part of the works of Stantondrue from the Top of that Hill to the place where it now lies: He is also reported to have made Maes-Knoll Tump with one spadeful of Earth, and to had the village underneath that Hill given him......

The ‘wedding stones’ story is found at other stone circles, the wedding taking place on a Saturday and lasting through the night into Sunday, when they were all turned to stone by the piper/harper, or in this case the ‘devil’. The christian church again concocting a story to stop people enjoying themselves, one wonders where this story originally came into the history timeline.

Funnily in these tales caught from the past about Stanton Drew there is no ‘drinking stone’ myth whereby they would have gone down to the river Chew and refreshed themselves.

The ‘Song of Stanton Drew’ can be found here...

twistedtree.org.uk/stanton_drew.htm

This was to be the site of Christchurch priory. It was said that everytime stones were laid on the site, by morning they had moved from the hill to where the priory now sits, over 2 miles away.
A similar tales exists in the parish of Fordington in Dorchester, which involved the siting of the parish church. The twist is that an ancient stone returned to the site after having been removed.

Both these stories appear in Peter Knight’s “Ancient Stones of Dorset”

Sir Edward [Pryse, President of the Cardiganshire Antiquarian Society, said] there were a great number of things about Gogerddan, which to his mind pointed to an older age of civilisation than even the Roman age. He referred to the camps. He was taken up to the one near Gogerddan recently, and shown a part of it, which he was not aware of before, although he had been born and bred on the place. [...] Sir Edward said he hoped the Society would be able to give him some enlightenment as to the two old stones in the Gogerddan race course. The theory in that part of the country was that a giant was buried there. He must, however, have lived in pre-historic times, because he must have measured 330 feet 9 inches.

[..]

The camp has two excellently preserved entrances, facing due east and west respectively. The western gateway, facing Clarach Bay and shore, the direction from which an enemy would be expected, is further strengthened by a curtain or circular mound, marked “Tumulus” on the ordnance maps. .. Adjacent to the curtain or mound in front of the entrance, say 80 yards off, is a spring of water, which, says Sir Edward, “has never been known to fail.” Reeds and rushes always grow there.

From 1910 v1 of the ‘Transactions of the Cardiganshire Antiquarian Society’ (p23).

“Ladies from the nearby town of Turriff, in centuries gone by, are supposed to have come to the woods at Delgaty. There they would find lumps of yellowish sandstone which they then shaped into small blocks similar to soap. This they then used, on returning to their homes, with water to clean their kitchen utensils and tables. This practise only stopped in the late 1800’s, when the real thing became more available.”

Mrs. E. Shand, Woodside Of Delgaty.

Other definitions of the name of this mountain by etymologists are “constant storm” or “maidens pap”.

There is a well on the on the east side of the hill called the Maiden Well, where maidens would go on Beltane to wash and drink to the health of the coming year.

Not forgetting Michael Scott, the Border Wizard, who is said to have split the hills. Probably a tale that was ascribed to sussessive “wizards” over time.

The Clan Gregor Website had the following:

The MacGregors were the fiercest and the most feared of all the clans of Rannoch. They harried the countryside for miles around, driving herds of stolen cattle into Rannoch from all parts. Led by Duncan MacGregor, called Ladasach, they fortified the island, Eilean nam Faoileag, as their headquarters where they planned their daring raids.

Proscribed and outlawed, and forbidden to use their name because of criminal activities, these “Children of the Mist” as they were called, were nevertheless conspicuous for their bravery not only in local fights but also in battles in support of the Stewart cause.

Campbell of Glen Orchy once captured Ladasach and chained him in the underground pit at Finlarig while waiting to be ‘heidit.’ However, before the sentence could be carried out, Campbell was called up by James IV to march to Flodden where he died in battle. Duncan was saved and celebrated Campbell’s death by escaping and returning to Rannoch in safety.

After a 47 year long campaign of rieving, he was caught a final time on 16th June, 1552. He was beheaded by order of Colin Campbell of Glen Orchy, Campbell of Glen Lyon, and Menzies of Rannoch. James MacGregor, Dean of Lismore, wrote of his final words in Testament of Duncan Ladasach:

‘Now farewell Rannoch with the loch and isle,
To me thou was richt traist baith even and morn.
Thou was the place that wad me not beguile,
When I have been oft at the king’s horn.‘

As he awaited execution he distributed his worldly goods as follows:

‘To the Curate he gives NEGLIGENCE;
to the Vicar RAPACITY,
to the Parson OPPRESSION;
to the Prior GLUTTONY.
PRIDE and ARROGANCE to the Abbot,
HIS FREE WILL to the Bishop,
and to the Friar FLATTERY and FALSE DISEMBLING.‘

Legend has it that William Wallace, the legendary Scottish freedom fighter, picked up this stone and flung it at Robert The Bruce, the Scottish King. Wallace believed that the Bruce had killed to much men in the North East and in anger heaved this at the King. One problem--Wallace wasn’t even here. Nice story though.

Another legend tells of the story that the giant Jock O Bennachie had caught the Tap O Noth wooing one of his girlfriends. In anger this stone was flung, in completely the wrong direction, as the Tap O Noth is northwards, Barra is to the east. Thank goodness he didn’t play darts as the Grenago Stone at Oldmeldrum is reported to be another bad aim.

From Barra 1308.

Before I have done with the Irish instances I must append one in the form it was told me in the summer of 1894: I was in Meath and went to see the remarkable chambered cairns on the hill known as Sliabh na Caillighe, ‘the Hag’s Mountain,’ near Oldcastle and Lough Crew. I had as my guide a young shepherd whom I picked up on the way. He knew all about the hag after whom the hill was called except her name: she was, he said, a giantess, and so she brought there, in three apronfuls, the stones forming the three principal cairns. As to the cairn on the hill point known as Belrath, that is called the Chair Cairn from a big stone placed there by the hag to serve as her seat when she wished to have a quiet look on the country round. But usually she was to be seen riding on a wonderful pony she had: that creature was so nimble and strong that it used to take the hag at a leap from one hill-top to another. However, the end of it all was that the hag rode so hard that the pony fell down, and that both horse and rider were killed. The hag appears to have been Cailleach Bheara, or Caillech Berre, ‘the Old Woman of Beare’, that is, Bearhaven, in County Cork.

From ‘Celtic Folklore Welsh and Manx’ by Sir John Rhys, 1901.