Latest Folklore

The Haunted Hill of Breedon.

Breedon Hill is a weird and uncanny place. Sensitive people, it is said, cannot stay there, but are glad to get away. From old days queer traditions hung about the height. It was a place of refuge from ancient times, but as the ages passed the place became solitary, even desolate, and as such the monks found it a haven of peace and there they founded a cell which depended upon the House at Nostell.

The monks were human. They did not seek to place the cell on the hill; they built it at the foot. But the morning after the first day of building the recluses were astonished and dismayed to find that their foundation had been dug up and the bricks laid out on the summit of the hill. Each accused the other of a silly trick, and they again essayed to build at the bottom of the hill. Alas! Every day the same thing happened. The bricks were carried up the steep declivity each night.

So the monks sought advice from a holy man. The natural assumption, for we are all prone to think evil, was that the Prince of Darkness was at work. The holy man, however, knew better. He explained that what they saw was a miracle. The monks were clearly enjoined to look heavenwards, not below in the valley! An Angel of the Lord had intervened in their affairs and it behoved them to regard the heavenly command. The monks took the hint, and so the edifice was built on the summit of Breedon.

More than one supernatural legend lingers about Breedon. The church is called “Breedon Cradle” by old wives of a generation ago.

On the north side of the hill is a field, in which there is entry to a cavern which is said to run under the hill. It is called “Hobbe’s Hole,” after a personage of whom singular tales are told. Hobbe was evidently a poltergeist. It was his regular custom every week to visit a neighbouring tavern and do the churning for the inmates. All the necessary utensils were placed in readiness before the landlord retired to rest. Unhappily, one night the maid left a linen apron instead of the proper linsey-wolsey one. The nocturnal visitor took offence and never again favoured the inn with his services.

Offended by linen instead of linen-wool mix aprons? I can’t imagine what a modern hobgoblin would think of modern fibres. Told in the Leicester Daily Mercury, 4th May 1929.

Hobbe’s Hole is still marked on the map (it seems to be the field to the NW, off ‘Squirrel Lane’) but the area has been nibbled into by quarrying.

Vitrified Fort at Finavon.
[...] There is a popular legend to the effect that the remains of the fort are the ruin of the first castle which it was attempted to build at Finavon. The attempt was not allowed to proceed far; not further than the laying of the foundation. Anything more which the builders raised during the day was always knocked down by some demon-power in the course of the next night.

Watchers were set to protect the work, and to frighten away the mischievous spirit; but the result was that the watchers themselves were frightened. At midnight the spirit spoke thus to the watchers amidst the din of the tumbling wall built the previous day: –

Found even down into the bog
Where twill neither shake nor shog.

They took the hint and left the hill.

From the ‘Arbroath Guide’, 29th December 1923.

A further spooky story connected with the vicinity of the camp.

A Quantock Hills Ghost Story.

“Miss Williams, of Over Stowey, was returning home from Watchet late in the evening, and near .... her pony fell and hurt his knees so badly that she was obliged to walk. After proceeding some distance, finding it was growing dark, and still seven or eight miles from home, she engaged a young countryman at Putsham to accompany her. It soon became very dark, and as they were passing through a thick wood and the ground was very wet, and she felt very tired, she again mounted her pony. They had not gone far thus, when she found her pony become suddenly very restive, trembling exceedingly and trying to push sideways through the hedge as if to avoid something. Every effort to make him go on was useless.

After a little while a crashing sound was heard, lasting only a second or two (a kind of clatter like the trucks in Bristol loaded with iron rods). After a few minutes the noise was repeated, still more loudly. The pony was now so ungovernable that Miss W was obliged to ask the man to hold him by the head. On being asked what the noise was the man seemed much frightened, and said he had never heard anything like it. The noise was repeated a third time, and with such an overwhelming crash that Miss W felt unable to bear it, and stopped her ears. The man was perfectly overpowered with alarm, and sunk on the earth in an agony of fear.

Miss W then observed something black approaching, which passed close to her, having the appearance of a hearse drawn by four horses, but no one with them and not the slightest sound. On Miss W. asking the man what he had seen, he described exactly the same.

After this they neither heard nor saw anything, and the pony went on freely, indeed seemed to hurry homewards. In about half a mile they came to the public-house, called the ‘Castle of Comfort,’ where several men were sitting outside the house smoking. Miss W asked if they had seen anything pass. They said they had not, though they had been sitting there for more than an hour, and that there was no other way through the wood. They reached Over Stowey about eleven, and the young man declared nothing should induce him to pass through that wood again at night, so he remained till morning.

The story soon got wind, and some of the older people of the neighbourhood ‘wondered how Miss W. could venture to pass through that wood at night’; it was so noted for extraordinary noises, etc., ever since a dreadful murder of a woman by her husband, who was hung on a gibbet near the spot. This happened about ten or twelve years since.”

The above is the copy of a MS. to which there is no date; nor do I remember the handwriting so as to recollect who wrote it out, but, judging from the time I have had it, Miss W.’s adventure must have occurred about 1850. There are places on the map called ‘Walford’s Gibbet’ near or in ‘Skerage Wood’, not very far from Danesborought Camp; possibly that is the gibbet and wood referred to. Perhaps some of your readers may be able to afford more accurate information. The Somersetshire hills are not unassociated with such stories. There is one in connection with Cutcombe-hill, also about a hearse, and a headless dog; perhaps someone will relate it, so as to help preserve these stories and traditions. – C.H. Sp. B. in ‘Somerset and Dorset Notes and Queries.‘

‘West Somerset Free Press’, 18th July 1891.

The Manifold Valley contains a series of caves which are of great interest to the geologist, the historian and the antiquarian. No one of these caves has had justice done to it from any of these sides. There has not been any persistent and systematic examination. The most thorough bit of work, was probably done by members of the Pennine Club, guided by Mr F.A. Holmes, J.P., some dozen years ago. Some days were spent in the now famous Beeston Tor cave by Messrs Holmes, Puttrell and party, and discoveries of some importance were made.

The public has had access to this cave all the time. Mr George Austin, of Grindon, told me, on Saturday last, that he took a party through part of the cave more than 40 years ago. Scores, if not hundreds, of people visited the spot during the past summer. The outer chamber shows the usual signs of the paper parcel, ginger-beer bottle tripper.

Among the villagers of Grindon and Weston, Beeston Tor and cave have an uncanny repute. In broad daylight and in company with others, many do not mind visiting the first chamber who would never dream of penetrating the inner recesses, and certainly not alone.

After spending many solitary hours in the more remote of these interior chambers, I can assure the timid that, apart from owls and bats and swarms of fluffy moths, with an occasional startled fox, there is nothing weird or frightful about these remote recesses.

The Rev. G.H. Wilson reports for the Staffordshire Sentinel, 2nd October 1924, after he found Saxon coins and jewellery in the caves here.

Miss Lock may be interested to know that the Rev. C.W. Whistler, a former vicar of Stockland, Bristol, and one of the greatest authorities upon the traditions and folk-lore of the Quantock country, recorded the local tradition that Rodway Hill, between Cannington village and the “Park” near Combwich, is so named from the rood erected on it to protect villagers from the Devil’s hunt. He recorded, too, the story of a man who was said to have met a great black spectral hound on this hill, and that it brushed up against him in passing and that he was paralysed ever after.

Mentioned in ‘Local Notes and Queries’ in the Taunton Courier, 1st January 1936.

Naturally the Ring is haunted. Even on bright summer days there is an uncanny sense of some unseen presence, which seems to follow you about. If you enter the dark wood alone you are conscious of Something behind you. When you stop, It stops; when you go on, It follows. However swiftly you turn round to look behind, you are not quite quick enough to catch sight of It, whatever It is. If you stand stock-still and listen, even on the most tranquil day when no breath of air stirs the leaves, you can hear a whispering somewhere above you. No birds live in this sombre wood but a single pair of yaffles, and occasionally the silence is broken by a loud, mocking laugh. Only once have we been so bold as to enter the Ring on a dark night. My wife and I went there alone. We never shall repeat the visit. Some things are best forgotten if they can be, and certainly not set down in a book.

From ‘Go To The Country’ by Philip Gosse (1935). He loves Chanctonbury though and could see it from his house. “The great hill was once a guiding beacon for the benighted wandered, when the Weald was one vast marshy forest of oak, and it is still a friend to welcome home the returned traveller – a friend which never fails and never changes in a changing world.”

Besides the loch itself there are several tarns, one of which rejoices in the name, Lochan Ora, “the golden lochlet.” Here, unless tradition is false, lies a bull’s hide, with many golden pieces, dropped into the tarn when the enemy pressed too closely.

Beyond a doubt that mound we pass by on the right shore of Loch Builg marks the grave of two Highlanders, who made their final halt here in the retreat from Culloden.

In ‘A Highland Tramp’ by Alex Inkson McConnochie, in the Leeds Mercury, 21st May 1907.

I surely can’t help thinking of people symbolically depositing valuable articles in water in prehistory. I spotted Kelly Gillikin Schoueri’s thesis all about the topic in Scotland. Sounds like a mini loch next to your own loch with crannog might be the perfect (liminal yet handily domestic) spot. Just speculating :) It’d be pretty crazy if folklore had handed down such a tale.

... Arbour Farm was next reached, and here, by the kind permission of Mr Meadows and Mr Bourne, the club visited the ancient Celtic stones known as the “Devil’s Ring and Finger.” There are two very large stones, one, an upright stone, grooved longitudinally, and with lateral grooves, where, possibly, arrow heads and pike heads may at some time have been sharpened, and shaped like a huge finger, represents the finger of his Satanic Majesty; and a broad flat stone, with a hole almost circular in the middle, is the ring. The stones belong probably to prehistoric times.

A local story, however, is to the effect that the stones arrived mysteriously one night after a girl had been murdered at the spot. ...

From a report of the N.S. Field Club, in the Newcastle Guardian, 22nd August 1908.

As regards the stone at Inverfolla, which is a very big one, and which has long been prone, there was an old local tradition that if anybody interfered with the stone or moved it, he would die within the year; and it is said that one man long ago did attempt to do this, and that he actually did die within the year: since when the stone has been quite safe, and has had a remarkably quiet existence, as nobody would now interfere with it for wealth untold.
I am, etc. Alex K. Stewart Lt-Col., of Achnacone.

In the Oban Times, 2nd June 1923.

Canmore’s record seems to confirm that the stone is still lying un-messed-with, and indeed is very large at 3.8m long and 0.7m breadth at its base (but a fairly skinny c. 0.13m thick).

One of the seven wonders of Glamorgan is the tumulus near the Bodvoc Stone on Margam Mountain. It is called the “Twmpath Diwlith” – the dewless mound. Tradition tells us that no dew ever falls on this mound.

In the ‘Glamorgan Gazette’, 5th September 1924.

also (warning, does get a bit bitchy):

Folklore of the District. (By Martin Phillips.)

Camden, in his “Britannia” (1610) remarks: ‘In the very top of an hill called Mynyd Margan, there is erected of exceeding hard grit, a monument or gravestone, four foot long, and one foot broad with an inscription, which whosoever shall happen to read, the ignorant common people dwelling there about, give it out upon a credulous error, that he shall be sure to die within a little while after. Let the reader therefore look to himself, if any dare read it, for, let him assure himself that he shall for certain die after it.‘

Writing in 1722, Daniel Defoe (’Tour through England and Wales’) makes the following comment: ‘In this neighbourhood, near Mynydd Margam, we saw the famous monument mentioned by Mr Camden, on a hill, with the inscription which the people are so terrified at, that nobody will care to read it; for they have a tradition from father to son, that whoever ventures to read it, will die within a month. We did not scruple the adventure at all, but when we came to try, the letters were so defaced by time, that we were effectually secured from the danger, the inscription not being anything near so legible as it seems it was in Camden’s time.‘

The inscription is still perfectly legible, and presumably the mountain climb did not appeal to Defoe who frequently expressed his abhorrence of Welsh antiquities and Welsh mountains, and apparently, he had no desire to risk the deciphering of the ‘terrifying’ inscription. Incidentally he has been described by a recent writer as ‘one of the world’s greatest liars, with a peculiar art for making fictitious narrative sound like the truth’. Defoe’s description of other Welsh antiquities confirms the statement.

The Bodvoc stone was believed to cover buried treasure, and about sixty years ago a wide hole about five feet deep was dug around it at night. The stone was overthrown, and for a long period was covered with water. It was subsequently set up in an upright position, and the erection of an iron railing protected it from further harm. Guarding the alleged treasure was the inevitable ghost, which was said to be that of the departed Bodvoc.

Near the stone is the huge mound known as ‘Y Twmpath Diwllith’ (the Dewless Mound), which was erroneously considered to be always immune from dew. The word ‘Diwllith’ became translated to ‘Dewless’, but apparently it is a corruption of “Duw-lith” (God’s Lesson). The mound is situated on the boundary line between Llangynvyd and Margam parishes, and in former times, during the yearly perambulation of the boundary, the customary lesson was read by the priest when the mound was reached.

In the ‘Neath Guardian’, 28th April 1933.

A single Druidical stone is visible in front of the farm house of Sannox, in the middle of the green field. Many remains of a similar kind are still extant in the mosses and glens of the island. Of late much has been done to solve the enigma of those monoliths.

A pretty tradition has been handed down of a daughter of Fingal going out to meet her lover in the woods, having disguised herself by dressing in man’s clothes; her lover, deceived by the circumstance, espied her amid the thick wooding, and, supposing her a foe, took his bow and drew an arrow from his quiver, and unfortunately killed his love. On the ground where she fell, he raised the tall monolith to commemorate the sad event, and had a second placed for himself not far from it – committing self-immolation. Her remains were buried entire, but his received all a chieftain’s honours and druidical rites, placed in an urn, inside a stone chest, alongside of his love.

Such is the tradition as handed down. There is still a love of the superstitious and the marvellous amongst the islanders. Yet, strange it is, in the very centre and civilization here are as great attempts to revive that ancient spirit of magic, hence those seances and impositions. There seems little doubt now regarding one use of those stones, that they were raised to mark the last resting place of the ashes of the great. This seems quite established.

In the Ardrossan and Saltcoats Herald, 9th August 1862.

The “Stannin Stane” on the Hill of Kirriemuir is, undoubtedly, the most familiar object among our local antiquities. Many who have never seen i t know it through Barrie’s writings; but every Kirriemuir boy has bestrode it, and visitors to the Hill rarely fail to give it some attention.

Formed of the old red sandstone of its site, the great, solitary monolith measures 9 feet in height, is 7 feet in width at its broadest part, and averages a couple of feet in thickness. There is no exact record regarding its hold on mother earth, which, probably, is not great, for the native rock crops out all round.

But there are tales, difficult to credit, of its being originally “as high again” as it is now; of its standing on another stone even larger than itself; and of its having split in two, overwhelming a band of robbers who were dividing their ill gotten plunder at its base.

No record appears on its surface; no tradition exists to explain its origin or purpose; surmise alone can offer any feasible explanation of its meaning. Says one, it marks the bounds of some ancient tribal possession; says another, some great warrior of old lies buried here. But, whatever its precise age or origin, it may safely be affirmed that the “Stannin Stane” saw all the conflicts waged between the early Picts and Caledonians, and marked the advance of Rome eastwards to the sea, from the great camps of Ardoch and Cardean to Stonehaven, Aberdeen, or the Moray Firth, or from Battledykes by Forfar to the Tay.

In the ‘Forfar Herald’ of 23rd October 1908.

In a small field near the confluence of the Burn of Kilry with the River Isla is a huge monolith known as the Standing Stone. It is about seven feet above the ground and ten feet in circumference at its base, tapering slightly to the top. While making agricultural improvements many years ago an attempt was made to remove it, but it was found to be so deeply embedded in the ground that the effort had to be abandoned.

That this monolith was raised to commemorate some great event, or fulfil some important purpose, there can be little doubt, but why it was raised or what people raised it are unknown. In all probability it was set up by the Druids, the high priest of whom performed his sacred rites and dispensed justice at the pillar. It is also said to mark the site of a battle between local rival families, when many of the combatants were drowned in the swollen river. Any such tale is unworthy of credence. Almost without doubt the stone stood where it is long before these families were ever heard of.

In the ‘Kirriemuir Free Press’ of 16th June 1955.

The remains of four ancient forts may be found within this district, their walls clearly distinguishable. They are of great age and their dates are uncertain.

An interesting stone can be seen by the roadside near the fort of Dun Mhuirich. It has a rounded hollow like a small basin, and is known as the christening stone. It is thought that it was used for christening stillborn or illegitimate children, but it may even belong to a pre-Christian era and have been turned to its later use after Christianity came to the country.

Heritage of our village – Tayvallich

The name applies to the remains of a stone circle situate about 4 chains S E [South East] of Arcan Mains 4 of the stones are upright the remainder are fallen It is also locally stated to have been also used as a burial place for unbaptized children.

Scotland’s Places

Close to the fort of Rarichie “Tobar na h-Iù” [“The Yew Tree Well”] can be found. In the folklore of the area it was a Danish Fort or a fairy-fort but it is a fort from the time of the Picts. According to Watson’s book the Picts used to say “Tiugamaid ’bhàn ’dhèanamh rotha riachagan,” [“Let’s go down to make rows of scratches [to sow seeds in],”] they used to live at Cadha an Ruigh’, closer to the slopes of Ben Nigg. The well had healing properties and it would be used for “White Swelling.” At the base of the fort the well could be found. There is a verse connected to this well:

“Tobar na h-iù, Tobar na h-iù,
’S ann duit bu chumha bhi uasal:
Tha leabaidh deis ann an iuthairnn
Do ’n fhear a ghearr a’ chraobh mu d’ chluasan.”

[“Well of the Yew, Well of the Yew.
To thee it is that honour is due;
A bed in hell is prepared for him
Who cut the tree around thy ears.”]

A Yew Tree used to be close to this well, with its branches hanging above the well but it was chopped down some time a long time ago, I haven’t found a story to see if it was chopped down by someone, or what happend to the person after they chopped the tree down!

DASG Blog

The monument comprises a large rock outcrop into which a vestry was excavated in 1825, to accommodate the parish minister while he conducted openair services.

Pulpit Rock, or Clach nan Tarbh (the stone of the bulls), lies some 2km south of Ardlui. In 1825 parisioners living in the northern part of the Parish of Arrochar complained of the distance that they had to travel to church services, some 13km each way. The Minister, the Reverend Peter Proudfoot, responded to his parishioners’ complaint saying that if they would build him a vestry he would come and preach to them on certain occasions. The parishioners cut and then blasted a hole in the rock large enough to accommodate the Minister, an Elder and the Precentor.

The shelter in the rock formed the vestry. It had a wooden door and was reached by a flight of steps. A wooden pulpit was fixed to a platform bolted on to the side of the rock. Services were held during the summer months for about 75 years until 1895 when a mission church was established in Ardlui. During the services the congregation sat on the ground around Pulpit Rock.

When the West Highland Railway was built it passed to the west of the rock, so avoiding this religious landmark.

Historically the monument is of national importance as a relatively late example of an open-air preaching site, and is a rare example of the modification of a natural site by blasting to provide a vestry.

Source: Historic Environment Scotland

The above information is taken from Pulpit Rock on Ancient Monuments website.

Strathpeffer Biography

The Great Hero of the Gaels was Finn mac Coul, Fingal of the tales of Ossian. That the old fort would provide a suitable abode for mac Coul’s heroic companions was obvious, and fertile imaginations would use other local features in adapting old tales and inventing new ones. For instance, the great standing stones in the valley had to be explained. So stories readily came to lips of how the ancient warriors used to engage in trials of strength, tossing rocks over the Strath. But even in those days it sometimes happened that the weather spoiled people’s sport, and when the footholds were slippery the stones, instead of clearing the valley, landed deep in the hollow. Look, there are the finger-and-thumb marks of the giants on that stone to this day!

Strathpeffer Biography

What of the signs of burning on the fort walls? From these arose the tale of how the giants went a-hunting to Nigg accompanied by their dogs, of which Finn’s favourites were Bran and Sgeolan (pronounced Scolaing). Garry, a dwarf (only 15 feet tall), was left in charge at the fort, much to his annoyance. He gave vent to his displeasure by storming at the women, and then, going outside, stretched himself on the grass and fell asleep. The women took advantage of the opportunity to peg the plaits of his hair to the ground so effectively that when Garry awoke he nearly scalped himself in trying to pull himself free. Now in a furious temper, he barricaded the women and children indoors and burned the fortress down. From afar the warriors saw the blaze and vaulted home on their spears. They caught the fleeing Garry and offered him the choice of death. The vindictive dwarf-giant chose beheading with his neck on Finn’s knees. Needless to say the ensuing blow not only killed Garry but mortally wounded Finn. So the desolate giants, bereft of wives, offspring and leader, realised that their rule had come to an end and decided to depart. Bearing the body of the mighty Finn to the Craigiehowe Cave at the mouth of Munlochy Bay, they entered, laid down their burden reverently, arranged themselves around and fell asleep. . .

Centuries passed. Then one day a shepherd chanced on the cave and, going inside, saw before him the giants and their hounds stretched out in all their barbaric grandeur. Above the door there hung a hunting horn which he tentatively took down and put to his lips. As he blew he noted with alarm that the giants’ eyes were now open but as otherwise they did not stir he risked a second blast upon the horn. With this the giants sat up resting on their left elbows. Unnerved, the shepherd fled with the anguished cry of the only half-liberated sleepers ringing in his ears: ‘Dhuine dhon dh’fhag thu sinn na’ s moisa na fhuair thu sinn.’ (‘Wretch, you have left us worse than you found us!’) An interesting feature of this tale is that while in Irish legend Finn’s life is terminated at the ford of Brea (Bray), in the Highland Scottish version this event takes place on the hill above the Brae Fiord or, as it is now known, the Cromarty Firth.

HAUNTING THE FODDERTY STONES, KILVANNIE HOUSE AND TULLOCH CASTLE

In about 2006, lots of curious tittle tattle was circulating around the Edinburgh LGBT Community about what might really be happening at Tulloch Castle. A young musician from Midlothian called Cameron. even said something about a Druidic circle. Following strange meetings in Edinburgh with Cameron and Walter Mitty (see below) in 2018, I’m inclined to believe Cameron and lots of other weird stuff he told me many years previously. But where is the Druidic circle? It certainly isn’t in the grounds of Tulloch Castle.

A distinguished-looking Walter-MItty-esque friend of Cameron with an apparently appropriate apparent surname (who’d previously thought that he was head of the Samaritans and now thinks that he’s an eminent professor) said that his family seat was in Tulloch Castle, added further to the mystery by setting me a strange puzzle concerning politicians being taken on trips to these climes, and sent me all sorts of weird documents and messages in Spanish, I was, however, never able to get to the bottom of it! A graduate in History and Politics called Jason from Stirling University had previously told me (in the Summer of 2000) about Edinburgh-SNP-organised ‘hunting trips for prey’ for politicians and VIPs to the Inverness area and I regard his information as reliable. Maybe these strands of information can be pulled together by considering my 2021 blogpost. In other words, have various politicians and VIPS got together for gay fun and frolics on the Fodderty Stones (not all of which are at Kilvannie House)

Thomas Hoskyns Leonard Blog

A local farming family set up this huge standing stone, probably over 5,000 years ago. For the people who erected it, this stone represented their links with the land and their ancestors. They wouldn’t have been known as MacLeods – that is a much more recent association.

The standing stone gave out a clear message: this land is well-used, it is ours and has been for generations. This was a rich land when Clach Mhic Leòid was erected in the prehistoric Neolithic period. The landscape was one of small-scale agriculture and open woodland. Any rough grazing or peat was confined to the high hills, and even the sea was some distance away.

Tradition sometimes associates standing stones with burials but archaeologists rarely, if ever, find contemporary evidence of burials at the base of single stones. It wasn’t until around 4,500 to 3,800 years ago, in the later Neolithic and early Bronze Age, that individual burials became common-place.

Nevertheless, it is possible that Clach Mhic Leòid continued to be important to the local people, even as times and beliefs changed. There are a number of large stones showing through the turf close to this magnificent slab. Was the area eventually used as a place of burial? Without archaeological investigation we will never know. Nevertheless, the medieval naming of the stone, Mhic Leòid, reflects valued links with the distant past.

The MacLeods of Harris and Dunvegan were the clan chiefs who held Harris from the 13th or 14th centuries until the late 1700s. Perhaps the clan name was given to this standing stone to link the MacLeods to long-departed ancestors, real or imaginary, and thereby emphasise their right to power over the land and the people.

By Jill Harden

According to the “Mysterious Britain and Ireland” website Llyn Morwynion, overlooked by the fine ring cairn upon Y Garnedd:

“...is probably the lake where, according to the Mabinogion, Blodeuedd and her Maidens of Ardudwy drowned whilst fleeing from the wizard Gwydion and the men of Gwynedd.”

mysteriousbritain.co.uk/legends/llyn-morwynion-lake-of-the-maidens/

The name “Carnagat” (Carn na gcat? Cathair na gcat?) according to local tradition arose from the fact that the cairn was the haunt of wild cats. I have once heard it called “Carraig na gcat” by an old country woman, who corrected my referring to it as “Carnagat,” but the latter is the usual name. Local folklore has it that these fairy cats were wont to steal the corn from the harvesters and convey it hither to their stronghold – the chief trysting place of all the fairy bands of the country round!

From Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland JRSAI 52 (1922), Carnagat, by Winifred Wulff, member (read 5 July, 1921)

“Here…occupying a small knoll known locally as Greenfield Knowe, towards the western end of the plateau…two upright standing stones of boulder character formed a conspicuous feature. They were, if tradition be accepted, the survivors of a larger group. The same tradition records that the farmer of Greenfield Farm, requiring stones for the erection of dykes, removed some of the standing stones from Greenfield Knowe. He, however, speedily found unexpected difficulty in carrying out his intentions. The dykers whom he had employed absolutely refused to use the stones, alleging they would thereby bring misfortune upon themselves and families, , and threatened, rather than risk such calamities, to throw up the job.

“While in this quandry the farmer, it is said, had a vision: a ghostly figure appeared to him, and in a hollow voice warned him against interference with he stones on Greenfield Knowe, and concluded by the adjuration, “Gang ower the howe t’ anither knowe.” Needless to say, the farmer lost no time in obeying his ghostly visitor. Next morning he carted back the stones he had removed and sought material for his dykes elsewhere.”

Mr Hutcheson (1905)

“About the beginning of the present century, when a worthy old parishioner was having some repairs carried out upon his house, he removed a few of the large stones with the intention of having them built into the walls. Throughout the night, however, an eerie feeling came over him, his conscience was on fire, he could get no rest. Accordingly he got out of bed, yoked his horse into the cart, and like a sensible man replaced yjr sacred stones where he found them, went home, and thereafter slept the sleep of the righteous.”

W.M. Inglis (1888)

Greenfield Knowe

Two upright standing stones formed a conspicuous feature on a small knoll known as Greenfield Knowe. They were what remained of a larger group of stones that the farmer of Greenfield farm had removed for building dykes. The dykers, however, absolutely refused to use them, alleging that they would bring misfortune on themselves and their families if they did so. The farmer is said to have had a vision of a ghastly figure who warned him against interfering with the stones saying “Gang ower the howe t’an other knowe.”

Auchterhouse Community