Latest Folklore

Many years ago the number of the stones was twelve, and the following amusing story is told about the removal of the missing one. A ploughman, while at work in the field, broke his plough against one of the stones, and, in the absence of his employer, took upon himself to remove the obstacle, and left it in the waters of Gluden. The farmer on his return was rather alarmed about the sacrilege, as he considered it to be, for the twelve stones represented the twelve Apostles, and he, being fearful that some calamity would follow, took the ploughnlan to task, but the man was ready with the answer : Hoots, there’s nae fear o’ ill. Ane o’ the Apostles was a traitor ; weel, it’s him I’ve ta’en awa’, and gin the Gluden disna’ wash him, it’ll droon him.‘

From
PROCEEDINGS OF THE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES OF LONDON
SECOND SERIES, VOL. X.
1885

The Roche aux Fées is about six leagues S.E. of Rennes, and a mile and a half S. of Esse, and is situated in a field which takes its name from the monument, and is called the field of the Roche aux Fees..
.. Formerly a forest surrounded it. It was at one time preserved with great care; but since the revolution, much injury has been done to it by the wanton folly of the peasantry, who imagined that a treasure lay buried under it.

Yeah, yeah, those awful revolutionary peasants. p85 of the Foreign Quarterly Review v26 (1840/1).

The eponymous fées are of course the Brittany fairies – and we shouldn’t forget their husbands, the poulpicans.

More likely connected with Manannan mac Lir i would bet, hence the reverence which was certainly pre Bruce and the glove! probably sat on the football pitch above the carse, but for a time was in the walled garden of Kennet House before moving to the town. Neolithic settlements have recently been discovered in this area of outstanding beauty. Also theres a very intriguing stone on the north east side of the hill of Clackmannan Tower, heading down for Alloa, which you can see has been used since time immemorial to sharpen blades.

This stone was moved form the roadside some time ago and marks the sacred way across the high muir offering spectacular views of the ochils trossachs and forth vallley, from Dumyat to Clackmannan and Tullyies, some of the old path remains at The Number 9 Woods, it crossed the brow of Branshill, probably named afterArthur Mac Aeden’s brother, Bran. Urns were found on the hillside when they built the hospital. The other ancient road across the muir is the king o’ muirs road which has standing stones and waymarkers along its route, noteably in the farmhouse garden at Balhearty.

A little to the east of the castle, close by the side of the Noran, a large sandstone has lain from time immemorial, bearing a deep indentation resembling the hoof of a colossal horse with the impress of one of the caulkers of the heel. This has evidently been fashioned by the falling out of a large pebble embedded in the stone, though at first glance it looks like an artificial work.

It is popularly called the Kelpie’s Footmark, and was believed to have been occasioned by his step while bounding about the rocks, soe of the largest of which he not only amused himself overturning when the water was swollen; but, as if conscious of his own unbridled power, boldly seated himself on others, and called lustily for help, in the feigned voice of a drowning person, so that he might lure his victim to the river.

The good people of Watestone were much annoyed in this way, arising, it is said, from the deceptive nature of the adjoining ford, which is much deeper than the clearness of the water would lead one to suppose; and, with a view to deceive the neighbours, when any real case of drowning occured, Kelpie ever and anon called out – “A’ the men o’ Waterstone! Come here! come here!”

Actually, having written that I am less convinced this stone is the right stone – it is just to the east of the Castle’s ruins, but maybe not close enough to the river. But the whole place is a bit weird – “The deil burns up the Vayne!” and it was said that someone looking for treasure in the ruined castle’s mythical dungeons “was forcibly thrust from the mouth of the yawning gulf by an uncouth monster in the shape of a horned ox, who departed in a blaze of fire through a big hle in the wall.” Crumbs.

from p202 of ‘The history and traditions of the land of the Lindsays in Angus and Mearns’ by Andrew Jervise (1853) – digitised on Google Books.

..a barrow and patch of ground still [exist], known by the names of Beattie’s Cairn, and the Mis-sworn Rig. It is said that the circumstance arose from two lairds quarreling about the marches of their lands in this quarter, and witnesses being brought to identify the boundary, the evidence of one of them went to prove that the laird of Balhall had no right to the portion to which he laid claim.

Infuriated at this, and convinced in his own mind that the witness had perjured himself, the laird of Balhall drew a dagger from his belt, and despatched the man on the spot. On examining the body, the fact of the perjury was discovered, it being found that, to save his conscience, the cunning [man] had his shoes filled with earth brought from the laird’s land, in whose favour he was enlisted, and on whose property he swore he stood at the time he gave his oath!

p260 in ‘The history and traditions of the land of the Lindsays in Angus and Mearns’ by Andrew Jervise (1853) – digitised on Google Books.

.. acording to tradition, the stones were brought from the West Water, or from the still more distant hill of Wirran [..]

..local tradition at once solves the mystery [of the use or gathering together of these stones], and says, that the place was merely the abode of fairies, and that a brawny witch carried the whole one morning from the channel of the West Water to the summit of the hill, and would have increased the quantity (there is no saying to what extent), but for the ominous circumstance of her apron string breaking, while carrying one of the largest! -- This stone was allowed to lie where it fell, and is pointed out to this day on the north-east slope of the mountain!

There follows a description of an incident “threescore years” before, from Tigerton. A child had become sickly and some people were convinced that he’d been swapped by the fairies, who “had carried [him] away by stealth to their invisible chambers about the hill of Caterthun.” The only way was to stick him over a ‘blaze of whins’. They craftily did it while his mother was out – and his screams soon determined that he was human after all. Which makes a change in such stories (unless, in this case it serves to underline how silly the peasants are).

From p267 of ‘The history and traditions of the land of the Lindsays in Angus and Mearns’ by Andrew Jervise (1853) – digitised on Google Books.

Cheviot is the highest hill on the Border.. its top is a perfect bog, in some places quite impassable from the accumulation of water, which finds its way through numerous deep sykes to the sides of the hill. Mackenzie says this bog or lough, was so firmly frozen at Midsummer a few years ago, that a person walked over it.

There are two heaps of stones on the top of Cheviot, the one called the Easter and the other the Wester Cairn. Persons ascending the hill from the east generally find it difficult to reach the Wester Cairn, except in very dry weather.

On the north-west side of Cheviot there is a deep chasm, called the Hen Hole, in which there is frequently to be seen a snow egg at Midsummer. There is a tradition, that a party of hunters, when chasing a roe upon Cheviot, were wiled by the fairies into the Hen Hole, and could never again find their way out.

p400 in ‘Local Historian’s Table Book of Remarkable Occurrences’ by M A Richardson (1843) – now digitised on Google Books.

There is a small cavern in the face of the highest cliff on the right bank of the ravine [of Hens Hole / Hell Hole], still accessible, we believe, to the venturesome, though dangerously so; and into this it is said that one of the early hunting Percies, along with some of his hounds, went and never returned. He and the hounds, if we may credit the legend, still lie in the cavern, bound by a magic spell – not dead, but fast asleep, and only to be released by a blast of a hunting horn, blown by some one as brave as ever Hotspur was, and more fortunate.

From ‘Hell’s Hole, Cheviot Hills’ in the Monthly Chronicle of North-Country Lore and Legend, August 1887.

.. after this, a second circle of the same dimension, with only five large stones remaining; but with a circular cytt or house, 5 feet in diameter, inside the circumference. Our guide informed us that according to local tradition these were called cerrig y pryved, “the stones of the flies.”

Pryfed does mean flies, or bugs, or generally small creepy crawly things, according to my dictionary. ‘Pryfaid’ doesn’t feature at all? or is it a kind of made up plural?

From some Correspondence from H. Longueville Jones to Archaeologia Cambrensis in vol 1, p76 (1846).

Curiously, no one yet seems to have mentioned the story behind the name of the stones. So here it is:

Llech y Drybed is another name for a cromlech in Pembroke; but it appears to be purely descriptive; for the trybedd, or trivet, was a utensil used for holding pans and kettles over a hearth fire; and this stone, poised on three others, has been thus designated from its resemblance to the domestic tripods, which are probably still in use in those parts of Wales where coal and grates are unknown, or unusual.

p106 in ‘Archaeologia Cambrensis’ v2 s3 (1856).

The name of Hangman’s Stone is traditionally said to have been derived from the circumstance of a sheep-stealer’s having seated himself upon the stone, with his booty, a live sheep, tied by the hind legs round his head. The sheep, finding a fulcrum, began to struggle, and the string which tied its legs slipped down to the man’s neck and strangled him before he had power to extricate himself.

Ah yes, sheep were clever in those days, they could find a fulcrum, no problem.

Pulman also mentions the following folklore. The stone is right between Borcombe Farm and Gatcombe Farm – so if you’re going to see the hounds anywhere.. though I admit it has 0 to do with the stone itself.

The secluded combes and lonely hills about Borcombe and Gatcombe are the scenes of numerous supernatural stories, and it is not many years since it was religiously believed by the peasantry that that ‘country’ was regularly hunted at night by a pack of ‘Hell Hounds’ whose breath was fire. Perhaps the smugglers [..] assisted, for the purposes of their own, in keeping alive the superstitious fears of the country people.

p56 and 63 in ‘Local Nomenclature’ by G Pulman (1853) – digitised at Google Books.

The barrow on Hog Cliff Hill isn’t quite at the highest point – so I suspect it’s doing one of those ‘false crest’ tricks so as to be seen from the valley.

Talking of the valley (crafty link there, Rhiannon) – the farm below is called ‘Crockway Farm’. I think this must relate to what this stretch of road was previously called – namely Cromlech Crock Lane. (Thomas Hardy called it Crimmercrock Lane in his writing).

Ah yes – there was a cromlech here – or at least something stoney and prehistoric, allegedly. George Pulman gets a bit carried away with the thought of it, talking about the wails of sacrificial victims mixing with sad dove-coos (?!):

Who can tell what horrid deeds were enacted upon the old stone which for so many centuries lay neglected by the roadside, and which at last was sacrificed to the genius of modern waywardenism!

.. The peasantry [are ignorant of the derivation of the word] which they have elegantly corrupted into ‘Crimmercrock! But many are the traditions descended to them from the remote generations touching the never-to-be-forgotten ‘crock.’ And they are all of a weird and a romantic kind – telling of ‘witches’ with their midnight orgies around the awful stone, upon which was wont to writhe the gasping victims of the witches’ unhallowed spells..

from Local Nomenclature, by George Pulman (1857) p53.

Satyrs, or imaginary Wild Men, were confidently said, formerly, to inhabit Hobsthirst Rocks, on the N side of FinCop Hill..

John Farey – A General View of the Agriculture and Minerals of Derbyshire, p627 (1817) – digitised at Google Books.

The name ‘Ailey Hill’ was previously “Elueshou” (or -howe) – that is, Elf Barrow.* It doesn’t sound like a very Christian place to be burying people. Perhaps that’s why the church took it over.

Other stories are connected with the site:

There remains.. a monument of some dreadful carnage that occurred here awhile after [the Danes]. This is a large conical tumulus at the east side of the town, about a bow shot from the cathedral, composed throughout of sand, gravel, and human bones, mingled in that indiscriminate manner that would occur when the victims of the battle-field were hastily collected in one vast mound, that served alike as their memorial and their tomb. The teeth and bones of horses, too, have been found in quantities within a short distance around its base.

This singular and mysterious object, which was called in Leland’s time Ilshow, but now Ailey Hill, measures about three hundred yards in circumference at its base, and about seventy in sloping height.

Etymologists have connected its name with a presumption that Ella, the Northumbrian king, fought, or was subsequently slain here in 867, and that he, or those who fell with him, were deposited in a “how” or hill that was designated by his name.

(Walbran immediately denies any belief in this ridiculous idea.)
From p 6 of Walbran’s book, and p112 of Semple’s article.

*disappointingly, Alaric Hall’s comprehensive Elf essay denies this.
alarichall.org.uk/ahphdapp.pdf

In the district [of] Eskdale, in the parish of Eskdale moor, is a very complete encampment, of an oval form, named Castle-O’er or Overbie. It is generally supposed to have been a Roman station, which communicated with those of Middlebie and Netherbie; and that the difference of form may [be because] of it being placed on top of a hill, where the square form could not be adhered to..

Well, that strange logic aside, the camp has the Black Esk down on its west flank, and the White Esk to its east. They meet to the south. And so, what an apt place for the following –

..According to tradition, a spot, at the confluence of the waters called the Black and White Esk, was remarkable in former times for an annual fair that had been held there time out of mind, but which is entirely laid aside. At that fair it was the custom for the unmarried persons of both sexes to choose a companion according to their liking, with whom they were to live till that time next year. This was called hand-fasting or hand in fist. If they were pleased with each other at that time, they continued together for life; if not, they separated, and were free to make another choice as at the first. The fruit of their connection (if there were any) was always attached to the disaffected person.

In later times, when this part of the country belonged to the abbacy of Melrose, a priest, to whom they gave the name of book-i-the bosom (either because he carried in his bosom a bible, or perhaps a register of the marriages), came from time to time to confirm the marriages. This place is only a small distance from the Roman encampment of Castle-O’er.

From p283 of ‘The Beauties of Scotland -vol 2’ by Robert Forsyth (1805), which you can read at Google Books. I think he copied most of it from the original Statistical Account. The New Statistical Account has an account of a letter from 1796 which says (p405, v4, 1845):

No account can be given of the period at which the custom of hand-fasting commenced, but I was told by an old man, John Murray.. that he was acquainted with or at least had seen an old man, I think his name was Beattie, who was grandson to a couple of people who had been handfasted. You perhaps know that the children born under the handfasting engagement were reckoned lawful children, and not bastards, though the parents did afterwards resile.

Talk about ‘friend of a friend’ stories. Who can say what the truth might be.

“Darby’s Bed, Galbally
Darby’s Bed is located, like most Irish passage tombs on a hilltop site. Duntryleague Hill is the westerly extension of Slievenamuck hill.
This great Megalith is thought to be the grave of Olill Olum, one of the early Kings of Munster. The name Duntryleague is derived from Dún-Trí-Liag, meaning the fort of three pillar stones. Diarmuid and Gráinne are also said to have rested here in their flight from the angry Fionn Mac Cumhaill”

Taken from aherlow.com/html/heritage_sites.html

This website mentions footprints of Goll as below.
answers.com/topic/petrosomatoglyph

“At Slievenamon (The Mountain of the Women) at South Tipperary in Ireland is the rock that bears the footprints of Goll – ‘the One-Eyed’ – who made a giant leap across the valley to catch up with the hunt of the Fianna”

The fine piece of ground called ‘Cat-stones,’ is enclosed on three sides by a considerable bank of earth, and bears evident marks of the plough. The country people believe it to have been an intrenchment or camp.

p81 in William Keighley and Robert Holmes’s ‘Keighley, past and present’ (1858) – viewable on Google Books. They also say, clearly about the same area:

On Harden Moor, about two miles south of Keighley, we meet with an interesting plot of ground where was to be seen in the early days of many aged persons yet living, a cairn or ‘skirt of stones,’* which appears to have given name to the place, now designated Cat or Scat-stones. This was no doubt the grave of some noted but long-forgotten warrior.

*The Cairn was called Skirtstones by the country people in allusion to the custom of carrying a stone in the skirt to add to the Cairn.

There are a group of cairns still on Harden Moor, though these are to the NE of Catstone Hill, curiously, around SE 075 386. So maybe the one they refer to really has gone.

The information from the SMR on Magic says the site is a ‘late prehistoric enclosed settlement’ and that quarrying has destroyed much of the west side. An excavation in 1962 didn’t turn up many artifacts: perhaps it was mostly used for stock, but there is/was a bank and ditch. A Roman road runs north-south about 100m west of the site.

This folklore refers to South Uist, and is from Martin’s ‘Description of the Western Isles of Scotland’ (a tour which he undertook in 1695). It’s a shame but I cannot work out where Gleann ‘Slyte’ must be.

There are several big cairns of stone on the east side this island, and the vulgar retain the ancient custom of making a religious tour round them on Sundays and holidays.

There is a valley between two mountains on the east side called Glenslyte, which affords good pasturage. The natives who farm it come thither with their cattle in the summer time, and are possessed with a firm belief that this valley is haunted by spirits, who by the inhabitants are called the great men; and that whatsoever man or woman enters the valley without making first an entire resignation of themselves to the conduct of the great men will infallibly grow mad. The words by which he or she gives up himself to these men’s conduct are comprehended in three sentences, wherein the glen is twice named, to which they add that it is inhabited by these great men, and that such as enter depend on their protection.

I told the natives that this was a piece of silly credulity as ever was imposed upon the most ignorant ages, and that their imaginary protectors deserved no such invocation. They answered that there had happened a late instance of a woman who went into that glen without resigning herself to the conduct of these men, and immediately after she became mad, which confirmed them in their unreasonable fancy.

The book is on line at the Appin Regiment site, here:
appins.org/martin.htm

The abodes of the Daoine Shi’ are supposed to be below grassy eminences or knolls, where, during the night, they celebrate their festivities by the light of the moon, and dance to notes of the softest music.

The belief in Fairies is a popular superstition among the Shetlanders. The margin of a small lake called the Sandy Loch, about two miles from Lerwick, is celebrated for having been their favourite resort. It is said that they often walk in procession along the sides of the loch in different costumes.

Some of the natives used frequently, when passing by a knoll, to stop and listen to the music of the fairies, and when the music ceased, they would hear the rattling of the pewter plates which were to be used at supper. The fairies sometimes visit the Shetland barns, from which they are usually ejected by means of a flail, which the proprietor wields with great agility, thumping and threshing in every direction.

p108 in ‘A History of the Highlands and of the Highland Clans’ by James Browne (1834) – now on Google Books.

On the top of Barry-hill near Alyth in Perthshire.. there was a fort of very great strength..

The tradition of the country, which is probably derived from the fiction of Boyce, relates that this vast strength of Barry-hill was the appropriate prison of Arthur’s queen, the well known Guenever, who had been taken prisoner by the Picts.

About a quarter of a mile eastward, on the declivity of the hill, there are some remains of another oval fort, which was defended by a strong wall, and a deep ditch. The same tradition relates, with similar appearance of fiction, that there existed a subterraneous communication between these two British forts, on Barry-hill.

p14 of ‘A History of the Highlands and of the Highland Clans’ by James Browne (1838), now digitised at Google Books.

Slightly more excitingly than just linking the enclosure with the fort, Angus’s ‘Forfarshire Illustrated’ (1843) suggests the following about the nearby Castle of Inverquiech: Beneath the fragment of the Castle there is a vault, which is popularly believed to be the entrance of a subterraneous passage, which communicates with the old British hill-fort, on the summit of Barry Hill, in the adjoining parish of Alyth.

The New Statistical Account adds a bit more (v10 for Perth, 1845, p1118):

Like other places of the same kind, it is the scene of innumerable legends, which agree in representing it as the residence or prison of the infamous Vanora or Guinevar, who appears in the local traditions under the more homely appellation of Queen Wander, and is generally described as a malignant giantess. This tradition perhaps arose from the vicinity of the celbrated sepulchral stones at Meigle, which are generally considered as the remains of the monument of Vanora..

The Meigle stones are beautifully carved Pictish stones, which are supposed to depict Vanora’s unpleasant end, among other things.

There is a huge stone at one end of the village of Gourock, where a saint of the name of Kempock formerly kept a shop for the sale of winds to sailors.
At this place the modern navigators of the Clyde leave their mistresses, when bound on distant voyages.

Running the church as a business? whatever next.
From p17 of ‘A Picture of Scotland’ by Robert Chambers (1828) – scanned in at Google Books.

In the 15th Century the cave was known as Tursthous which translated means ‘giants house’.

The fissure cave on the tumbled limestone rocks of Hob’s House, on the northern side of Fin Cop, was once said to be the home of the giant Hulac Warren (sometimes Hector Warren) or Hob.
On a bend in the river, closer to Demons Dale, stands the Warren Stone. Which is said to be the petrified remains of the giant who was turned to stone for the attempted rape of a shepherdess. During the attack she either fell or threw herself to her death. Where her body landed a spring of pure water formed.

In an old local rhyme suggesting witchcraft in the area, Hob is portrayed as a fiddler:

The piper of Shacklow,
The fiddler of Fin,
The old woman of Demons Dale,
Calls them all in.

They’re probably still telling this story in the pub. Maybe people are still getting stuck up there.

It is customary with the young men in the neighbourhood to climb up this huge rock, from the top of which there is a fine prospect of the vale below, but it requires considerable dexterity and address to descend.

The rustics here relate a story respecting the “Drake Stone” with great glee. On one fine summer evening, a few years ago, a stranger arrived at the village. He entered a public house, and having taken some refreshment, immediately departed. His intention was to ascend the Drake Stone, which he did with little difficulty, and after remaining for some time on the summit of the rock, enjoying the beautiful and extensive prospect, the deepening gloom warned him that it was time to depart, and he therefore set about descending the dangerous rock, but in vain.

He looked at the yawning depth below and shuddered at the prospect of attempting to descend; further, the night was closing in, not a human being was in sight, and the poor traveller in an agony of fear was obliged to content himself with remaining on the cold rock with the starry heaven for a canopy.

Wrapping himself up in his garments as well as he could, he laid him down to obtain, if possible, some repose. To sleep, however, was not in his power, the knowledge of his situation made him to lay awake, anxiously waiting the break of day.

Early on the following morning, the inhabitants on rising, were surprised to hear a human voice, “loud as the huntsman’s shout,” bawling lustily for assistance. Seeing his danger, they immediately proceeded to the stone, and by proper means and some exertion, he was safely extricated from his very perilous situation, where he had passed so sleepless a night.

Tourists eh.
From p 142 of ‘The local historian’s table book’ by M A Richardson (1844) = now on Google Books.