Latest Folklore

With regard to the folklore below, it seems like Sir John and the Wyverne got about a bit. This is from Walter Whites 1861 book A Month in Yorkshire.
“And it was near Lofthouse the Sir John Conyers won his name of Snake-Killer. A sword and coffin , dug up on the site of an Old Benedictine priory were supposed to have belonged to a brave knight who “slew yt monstorous and poisonous vermine or wyverne, and aske or werme, overthrew and devoured many people in fight, for yt ye sent of yt poison was so strong yt no person might abyde it.” A grey stone standing in a field still marks the haunt of the worm and place of battle.
Tradition tells, moreover, of a valliant youth who killed a serpent and rescued an earls daughter from the reptiles cave, and married her: in token whereof Scaw Wood still bears his name.”
Lofthouse is Loftus, a small town on the coast about 30 miles from Sockburn.

The sword which Sir John slew the worm with, the Conyers Falchion, is now kept in Durham Cathedral and can be seen here bjorn.foxtail.nu/h_conyers_eng.htm

The above web page also mentions Lewis Carroll’s connection with Sockburn.
“The Sockburn Worm itself was almost certainly immortalized by Lewis Carroll in his famous nonsense rhyme, “Jabberwocky”, as he lived in Croft on Tees as a boy and it was there he wrote the first verse of the rhyme.”

Some nice weirdness for the general area, for those who like to make earthlights / prehistoric spot connections.

It is not necessary to look abroad for “spectral lights.” In the sea loch which severs Appin from Mamore, and between Ballachulish Hotel and Glencoe, the lights abound[..] When I was at Carnoch House last year, opposite Invercoe, an English friend of mine observed the light closely, and about 10.30 p.m. in late August, the Ballachulish villagers turned out to stare and wonder. The lights moved rapidly down the road to Callert, then climbed the hill side, then went down to the shore of the loch. My friend could form no theory to account for their nature and movements, which are rapid. The country people have various hypotheses, all supernormal. No doubt there is a natural explanation, but, so far, conjecture has been baffled. They are not corpse lights, for they are visible to all, not merely to the second-sighted.

Spectral Lights
A. Lang
Folklore, Vol. 12, No. 3. (Sep., 1901), pp. 343-344.

“Sockburn has its legend, one of those interesting dragon stories which enrich our northern folk lore. It is thus told in the Bowes MSS p.57: ” Sir John Conyers, Knt., slew yt monstorous and poisonous vermine or wyverne, and aske or werme, overthrew and devoured many people in fight, for yt ye sent of yt poison was so strong yt no person might abyde it. But before he made this enterprise, having but one sonne, he went to the church of Sockburn in complete armour, and offered up yt his onely sonne to ye Holy Ghost. Yt place where this serpent laye was called Graystane: and thisw John lieth buried in Sockburn church in complete armour, before the conquest.”
The Grey Stone beneath which the monster was buried, is still pointed out in a field near the ruins of the church.”

Bulmers Directory of North Yorkshire 1890

An alternative theory has the English bishop Thomas losing a battle here:

The Bishop was interred near where he fell, on the top of a small knoll in front of the farm house; the grave is hewn out of the solid rock to a considerable depth, and its aperture is covered with a flat stone of more than two tons weight, and has given name to the farm on which it stands, (Cairn-holy); and another farm about a mile farther up the glen, still bears the name of “Claughred,” (Cleugh-raid,) it being in the line of the contending armies.
One edition of the legend calls him Prior instead of Bishop; but as Whithorn was a Bishoprick, and the seat of the Bishops of Galloway, we have given the latter the preference[..]

[..]It has been asserted by many, and among these some whose antiquarian researches entitle them to respect, that this was the burial place of “King Galdus,” or “Aldus MacGaldus,” a sovereign who made some noise in the fabulous era of our history, and who, it is alleged, fell in a bloody battle fought against the Picts. But against this we would object the posthumous ubiquity of “King Galdus,” whose place of sepulture has been.. the Standing Stones of Torhouse, in the parish of Wigtown.. [and] a cairn on the farm of Glenquicken in the parish of Kirkmabreck.

From
Legends of Galloway by James Denniston (1825), cp294.
Online at Google Books (though a few critical pages are missing. Like the one that introduces who Thomas the Bishop is).

Kicking a Cross.--In July, 1901, I was making enquiries in Pyrford about the well-known Pyrford Stone, which “turns round when Pyrford clock strikes,” or “when it hears the cock crow.” A gardener, a resident in Pyrford but not a native, said,-- “I expect it was put up in remembrance of someone being killed. There’s a cross scratched on it, so I expect it’s like kicking a cross. Don’t you know that? I’ve been in many parishes, and they always kick a cross in the road where anyone’s been murdered or killed in an accident.” Here he made a cross in the dust with his foot. “If a man’s been killed in an accident on the road, the policeman’ll always kick a cross; and some people keep on kicking a cross in the same place year after year. There’ve been several people killed on Pyrford Rough, but no one seems to trouble to keep up the crosses.”

Scraps of English Folklore, XII. (North Bedfordshire Suffolk, London and Surrey)
Barbara Aitken
Folklore, Vol. 37, No. 1. (Mar. 31, 1926), pp. 76-80.

The favourite resort of Robin Hood and Little John and their comrades, when they desired to enjoy the wine of which they had deprived some luxurious abbot or sheriff, was a remarkable group of stones or rocks near Haddon Hall in Derbyshire, where the outlaw is believed to have built a sylvan palace and reigned lord of all, in spite of the Norman [strengths?] of Haddon and Chatsworth. Two stones rise above their neighbours, and here an old tradition says that Robin sat on one and Little John on the other, delivering judgment on litigated matters of [..?] Law; while another tradition still older asserts that Robin leaped or stepped from the summit of one to the other to show his wondrous agility, and that in consequence the stones have ever since been called Robin Hood’s Stride.

Page 272 in A Cunningham’s ‘Robin Hood Ballads’ in ‘The Boys’ Own Story-Book’ (1856). Online at Google Books.

The stone and a poem connected with it are mentioned in ‘Footprints of Early Man’ by Donald A. Mackenzie, 1909 (online at google books) but there’s not much mention of the source:

A standing stone 20 1/2 feet high and 6 1/2 feet broad, with a notch at one side near the top, is situated 80 feet above the sea-level and facing the Atlantic on the west coast of Lewis. It can be seen far out at sea, and it [..] may have been a landmark for the guidance of mariners. Seen from a distance it resembles a human hand. Its Gaelic name is “Stone of the Truiseal”, but what “Truiseal” means is not known. An old Gaelic poem asks the “great Truiseal”:
“Who were the people in thine age?”
but the stone gives a very vague answer, saying it merely “longs to follow the rest” (the ancients), and that it is fixed “on my elbow here in the west”.

I found this additional fragment of the poem at
bbc.co.uk/scotland/islandblogging/blogs/005132/archive/2006/08.shtml

“The Truiseal stone is reputed to have been a man in by-gone days, who had been turned to stone. A passer-by had heard the stone proclaim in sepulchral tones:

A Truisealach am I after the Fiann;
Long is my journey behind the others;
My elbow points to the west
And I am embedded to my oxters.”

Your oxters are your armpits! so the stone must be very big indeed.

As old as Pendle-hill.

This is generally understood to mean coeval with the creation, or at least, with the flood; although, if it be, as some have supposed, the effect of a volcano, its first existence may have a later date.

From the Lancashire section of: A provincial glossary: with a collection of local proverbs, and popular superstitions. Francis Grose (1790). Online at Google Books.

To all friends round the Wrekin.

A mode of drinking to all friends, wheresoever they may be, taking the Wrekin as a center. The Wrekin is a mountain in the neighbourhood of Shrewsbury, seen at a great distance.

A phrase I believe is still in use today! From the Shropshire section of A provincial glossary: with a collection of local proverbs, and popular superstitions. Francis Grose (1790). Online at Google Books.

BETWEEN the towns of Aten and Newton, near the foot of Rosberrye Toppinge, there is a well dedicated to St. Oswald. The neighbours have an opinion, that a shirt, or shift, taken off a sick person, and thrown into that well, will shew whether the person will recover, or die: for if it floated, it denoted the recovery of the party; if it sunk, there remained no hope of their life: and, to reward the Saint for his intelligence, they tear off a rag of the shirt, and leave it hanging on the briars thereabouts; ‘where,’ says the writer, ‘I have seen such numbers, as might have ‘made a fayre rheme in a paper myll.’ These wells, called Rag-wells, were formerly not uncommon.

From p54 of A provincial glossary: with a collection of local proverbs, and popular superstitions. Francis Grose (1790). Online at Google Books.

More, on the strange indentations that Kammer mentions.

On this part of the coast of Pembrokeshire, between Tenby and the entrance to Milford Haven, is a small bay, steep in its sides, and so lashed by surf as rarely to permit a boat to land. Here is the hermitage (or chapel) of St Gawen, or Goven, in which there is a well, the water of which, and the clay near, is used for sore eyes. Besides this, a little below the chapel, is another well, with steps leading down to it, which is visited by persons from distant parts of the principality, for the cure of scrofula, paralysis, dropsy, and other complaints. Nor is it the poor alone who make this pilgrimage: a case came more immediately under my notice, where a lady, a person of some fortune, having been for some time a sufferer from a severe attack of paralysis, which prevented her putting her hand in her pocket, took up her quarters at a farm-house near the well, and after visiting it for some weeks daily, returned home perfectly cured.

From the cliff the descent to the chapel is by fifty-two steps, which are said never to appear the same number in the ascent; which might very easily be traced to their broken character. The building itself is old, about sixteen feet long by eleven wide, has three doors, and a primitive stone altar, under which the saint is said to be buried. The roof is rudely vaulted, and there is a small belfry, where, as tradition says, there was once a silver bell; and there is a legend attached, that some Danish or French pirates came by night, and having stolen the bell from its place, in carrying it down to their boat, rested it for a moment on a stone, which immediately opened and received it. This stone is still shown, and emits a metallic sound when struck by a stone or other hard substance.

One of the doors out of the chapel leads by a flight of six steps to a recess in the rock, open at the top, on one side of which is the Wishing Corner, a fissure in the limestone rock, with indentations believed to resemble the marks which the ribs of a man forced into this nook would make, if the rock were clay. To this crevice many of the country people say our Saviour fled from the persecutions of the Jews. Other deem it more likely that St. Gawen, influenced by religious mortifications, squeezed himself daily into it, as a penance for his transgressions, until at length the print of the ribs became impressed on the rock. Here the pilgrim, standing upon a stone rendered smooth by the operation of the feet, is to turn round nine times and wish according to his fancy. If the saint be propitious, the wish will be duly gratified within a year, a month, and a day. Another marvellous quality of the fissure is, that it will receive the largest man, and be only just of sufficient size to receive the smallest. This may be accounted for by its peculiar shape.
ROBERT J. ALLEN – (Vol. vi. p96)
Bosherton, Pembroke

From p204 of ‘Choice Notes from Notes and Queries – Folklore’, 1859.

The church of Breedon, in Leicestershire, stands alone on a high hill [inside the fort], the village being at its foot. The hill is so steep on the side towards the village, that a carriage can only ascend by taking a very circuitous course; and even the footpath winds considerably, and in some parts ascends by steps formed in the turf. The inconvenience of such a situation for the church is obvious, and the stranger, of course, wonders at the folly of those who selected a site for a church which would necessarily preclude the aged and infirm from attending public worship. But the initiated parishioner soon steps forward to enlighten him on the subject, and assures him the pious founder consulted the convenience of the village, and assigned a central spot for the site of the church. There the foundation was dug, and there the builders began to rear the fabric; but all they built in the course of the day was carried away by doves in the night, and skilfully built in the same manner on the hill where the church now stands. Both founder and workmen, awed by this extraordinary interference, agreed to finish the edifice thus begun by doves.

Originally in volume v, p436, this is also in ‘Choice Notes from Notes and Queries – Folklore’, 1859, p1.

Some rock-related folklore for the spot. ‘Ringing’ rocks aren’t an unusual motif?

ST. GOVEN’S BELL.
The following legend is current in Pembrokeshire. On the south-west coast of Pembrokeshire is situated a little chapel, called St. Goven’s, from the saint who is supposed to have built it, and lived in a cell excavated in the rock at its east end, but little larger than sufficient to admit the body of the holy man. The chapel, though small, quite closes the pass between the rock-strewn cove and the high lands above, from which it is approached by a a long and steep flight of stone steps; in its open belfry hung a beautifully-formed silver bell. Between it and the sea, and near high-water mark, is a well of pure water, often sought by sailors, who were always received and attended to by the good saint.
Many centuries ago, at the close of a calm summer evening, a boat entered the cove, urged by a crew with piratical intent, who, regardless alike of the sanctity of the spot, and of the hospitality of its inhabitant, determined to possess themselves of the bell. They succeeded in detaching it from the chapel and conveying it to their boat, but they had no sooner left the shore than a violent storm suddenly raged, the boat was wrecked, and the pirates found a watery grave; at the same moment by some mysterious agency the silver bell was borne away, and entombed in a large and massive stone on the brink of the well. And still, when the stone is struck, the silver tones of the bell are heard softly lamenting its long imprisonment, and sweetly bemoaning the hope of freedom long deferred.

Originally in Vol xii, p201, this was included on p257 of ‘Choice Notes from Notes and Queries – Folklore’, 1859.

I have just been told of a man who several years ago lost his way on Whitchurch Down, near Tavistock. The farther he went the farther he had to go; but happily calling to mind the antidote “in such case made and provided,” he turned his coat inside out, after which he had no difficulty in finding his way. “He was supposed,” adds my informant, “to be pisky-led.”

In ‘Choice Notes from Notes and Queries – Folklore’ (1859) – p219. Originally in volume ii. Online at Google Books.

The RCAHMS record says “four orthostats seem to define a polygonal chamber 14ft long and perhaps 9ft wide, while E of a pair of low jamb stones, three low side slabs and a pair of portals should mark a passage 3 1/2 to 4 1/2ft wide and 12 1/2ft long, of which one lintel is more or less in position.” So could this possibly be the right location for this folklore (please correct me if not):

On a small eminence at the west end of Park is a number of standing stones, placed in a circular form, and enclosing a space of about 15 feet in diameter, from which two rows run eastward, and make a rectangle of 9 feet by 6 feet. They are supposed to commemorate a bloody battle which took place towards the end of the fifteenth century, between the McKenzies and the McDonalds, headed by Gillespie, cousin of the Lord of the Isles. The chief of the McKenzies had married a sister of the latter; but for some slight reason repudiated here, and is said to have sent her back, by way of insult, with a man and horse, each blind of an eye, as she herself had a similar defect.

Some time thereafter, a predecessor of the Laird of Brodie happened to be on a visit at Kinellan, and on departing received from McKenzie a present of several heads of cattle. As he and his followers were driving these across the low grounds to the west of Druim-chatt, they observed the McDonalds approaching to avenge the insult which had been offered to the sister of their lord, and immediately returned to assist the McKenzies. The remains of the Brodies who fell on the occasion are said to have been buried under these stones.

Tradition attributes the victory which the McKenzies gained chiefly to the aid which they received from a little man with a red night-cap, who appeared suddenly among them. Having knocked down one of the McDonalds, he sat upon the lifeless body, and, when asked the reason, replied, “I have killed only one man, as I am to get the reward only of one man.” He was told to kill another, and he would receive double- he did so, and sat on him likewise.

The chief of the McKenzies on learning the circumstance came hastily to him, and said, “Na cunnte ruim’s cha chunnte mi ruit,” meaning, Don’t reckon with me, and I’ll not stint thee- whereupon the little man arose, and with every blow knocked down a McDonald, always saying, “’O nach cunntair ruim cha chunnte mi ruit.”

He helped the McKenzies to gain a decisive battle, and then disappeared into Loch Kinellan. Gillespie lost his head on the occasion, which is said to have rolled down into a well, where it was afterwards found. This conflict is commonly called the battle of Blar-na-pairc, from the district of this parish in which it was chiefly fought...

From p255 of vol 14 of The New Statistical Account of Scotland By Society for the Benefit of the Sons and Daughters of the Clergy (1845)

So you can see Ireland and the Llyn.. but what else can you see from up here? Chapter 2 of John Rhys’s ‘Celtic Folklore, Welsh and Manx’ suggests the following:

Mr. E. Perkins, of Penysgwarne, near Fishguard, wrote on Nov. 2, 1896, as follows, of a changing view to be had from the top of the Garn, which means the Garn Fawr, one of the most interesting prehistoric sites in the county, and one I have had the pleasure of visiting more than once in the company of Henry Owen and Edward Laws, the historians of Pembrokeshire:--

‘May not the fairy islands referred to by Professor Rhys have originated from mirages? During the glorious weather we enjoyed last summer, I went up one particularly fine evening to the top of the Garn behind Penysgwarne to view the sunset. It would have been worth a thousand miles’ travel to go to see such a scene as I saw that evening. It was about half an hour before sunset--the bay was calm and smooth as the finest mirror. The rays of the sun made a golden path across the sea, and a picture indescribable. As the sun neared the horizon the rays broadened until the sheen resembled a gigantic golden plate prepared to hold the brighter sun.

No sooner had the sun set than I saw a striking mirage. To the right I saw a stretch of country similar to a landscape in this country. A farmhouse and outbuildings were seen, I will not say quite as distinct as I can see the upper part of St. David’s parish from this Garn, but much more detailed. We could see fences, roads, and gateways leading to the farmyard, but in the haze it looked more like a panoramic view than a veritable landscape. Similar mirages may possibly have caused our old to think these were the abode of the fairies.‘

Online at the excellent Sacred Texts Archive, here
sacred-texts.com/neu/cfwm/cf106.htm

The Herefordshire SMR says on the stone that “there are traditions ‘of a general said to be buried there’ and of a farmer digging round it & unsuccessfully applying the strength of 12 horses to root it up.”

The stone had fallen by 1982 (when its total length was seen to be 9 foot) and it was reerected in 1989.

smr.herefordshire.gov.uk/hsmr/db.php?smr_no=1101 (It’s not clear to me from which of the sources given the folklore originates).

There is a large block of limestone called Colwall Stone, situated by a cottage (formerly named the “Old Game Cock”), on the road-side at Colwall Green. Some have supposed that it was placed there in ancient times as a memorial of some event, or as evidence of some custom; but, upon my visiting the spot in 1846, I learned from a person in the neighbourhood, that his late father, Francis Shuter, and others, about seventy years ago, got it out of the limestone quarry, in a copse at the foot of the Wytch, and, assisted by a strong team of oxen, dragged it to its present locality; but whether it was brought there in lieu of a more ancient memorial I could not learn. It is four feet long, three feet broad, and two feet six inches thick; and I was informed that the landlord receives one penny a year rent for it.

‘The landlord receives one penny a year rent for it’?? Jabez, I think the locals were having you on. The rest of it is but a ‘friend of a friend’ story anyway and apart from suggesting a source for the stone isn’t particularly enlightening? Besides, the village is called Colwall Stone – and how long has it been called that?
From ‘On the Ancient British, Roman, and Saxon Antiquities and Folk-Lore of Worcestershire’ by Jabez Allies, 1852. (online at Google Books).

This is quite silly but I quite like it. I guess the combination of isolated moorland, darkness and a seemingly intelligent light would get to lots of people.

Jack-a-lantern.. This I believe to be the only name known [for the phenomenon] in the district. [It] only occurs in certain parts of Brendon Hill and the Exmoor district. It is said that a farmer once crossing Dunkery from Porlock to Cutcombe, and having a leg of mutton with him, was benighted. He saw a Jack-a-lantern and was heard to cry out while following the light, “Man a lost! man a lost! Half-a-crown and a leg a mutton to show un the way to Cutcombe!” 1886 ELWORTHY, West Somerset words (EDS), p 375.

Quoted in The Devil and His Imps: An Etymological Inquisition
Charles P. G. Scott
Transactions of the American Philological Association (1869-1896), Vol. 26. (1895), pp. 79-146.

from ‘Chiltern Country’ by H J Massingham (1944)

‘...50 feet high by 25 long, from a pyramidal base (Bledlow Cross has none) 340 feet wide. It can be seen from Shotover and many a point in the vale, just as the White Horse can from Faringdon Folly and many a point in the vale. The Sinodun Hills are visible from Whiteleaf and the blue veil of the Berkshire Downs as though let down from heaven. The Cross saw and was meant to be seen with the range of the falcon.

As I argued in a book written some years ago, it has stood or rather leaned against the bluff above the Way from the time when tin ingots on men’s shoulders, flint from the factories at Grime’s Graves, wool-tods on pack horses, sheep, cattle and ponies, chapmen and pedlars, pilgrims and soldiery passed along the Ridge Way on the summit, first as a solar or phallic sign and from the eighteenth century onwards as a cross.‘

The RCAHMS database says that this stone is 1.45m tall, 1.25m wide, and up to 0.6m thick at the base. Just downhill from the stone, if you follow the stream it stands by (the Peatshiel Sike), near a waterfall is the Brownies Cave (so, fair enough, this story is not connected to the stone, but something nearby..). The brownie used to help out at the local farm. But it might not be worth looking for him.

The brownie of the farm-house of Bodsbeck, in Ettrick, left his employment upwards of a century ago [..]. He had exerted himself so much in the farm – labour both in and out of doors, that Bodsbeck became the most prosperous farm in the district. He always took his meat as it pleased him, usually in very moderate quantities and of the most humble description. During a time of very hard labour, perhaps harvest, when a little better fare than ordinary might have been judged acceptable, the goodman took the liberty of leaving out a mess of bread and milk, thinking it but fair that at a time when some improvement, both in quantity and quality, was made upon the fare of the human servants, the useful brownie should obtain a share in the blessing. he, however, found his error, for the result was, that the brownie left the house for ever, exclaiming,
‘Ca’, brownie, ca’,
A’ the luck o’ Bodsbeck away to Leithenha’.‘
The luck of Bodsbeck accordingly departed with its brownie, and settled in the neighbouring farm-house, called Leithenhall, whither the brownie transferred his friendship and services.

p108 of Select Writings of Robert Chambers By Robert Chambers (1847).

At about half a mile’s distance to the southward, there is another stone called the Buck Stone, upon which the proprietor of the barony of Pennycuik is bound by his charter, to place himself, and to wind three blasts of a horn, when the king shall visit the Borough Moor.

From p90 of Black’s Picturesque Tourist of Scotland By Adam and Charles Black (1861). Viewable online at Google Books.

Thomas the Rhymer was a medieval Scottish seer. He’s currently residing in amongst the fairies (he had an affair with their queen). He wrote prophetic verses:

The common people at Banff and its neighbourhood preserve the following specimen of the more terrible class of the Rhymer’s prophecies:-

At two full times, and three half times,
Or threescore years and ten,
The ravens shall sit on the Stanes o’ St Brandon,
And drink o’ the blood o’ the slain!

The Stones of St Brandon were standing erect a few years ago in an extensive level field about a mile to the westward of Banff, and immediately adjacent to the Brandon How, which forms the boundary of the town in that direction. The field is supposed to have been the scene of one of the early battles between the Scots and the Danes, and fragments of weapons and bones of men have been dug from it.

From p 19 of ‘Select Writings of Robert Chambers: popular rhymes of Scotland’ 3rd edition, 1847. Online at Google Books.

Ok I admit this is a bit dodgy because the RCAHMS site says it is a natural stone – albeit a very large one measuring 5m by 4m. Might not an eagle eye spot a cup mark?

As is the case in several other Highland parishes, there are to be seen the relics of Druidical circles, where our rude ancestors performed their superstitious rites; and for these remains the people still have a veneration.
On the farm of Balinloan, there is a remarkable stone, of large size, called Clach a mhoid, or the stone where the court was held. It is said that a baron in the neighbourhood held his court here for the trial of offenders, with power to “hang and drown’ (Comas croiche agus poll;) and tradition says, that the last baron who exercised these functions was not undeserving of one or other of these ends himself.

From p1007 of
The New Statistical Account of Scotland By Society for the Benefit of the Sons and Daughters of the Clergy
published 1845.

This is online at Google Books.

At some distance from the semicircle to the right stands a stone by itself, eight feet high, three broad, and nine inches thick, with a round hole on the side next the lake. The original design of this hole was unknown till, about twenty years ago, it was discovered by the following circumstance: a young man had seduced a girl under promise of marriage, and she, proving with child, was deserted by him. The young man was called before the session; the elders were particularly severe. Being asked by the minister the cause of so much rigour, they answered, You do not know what a bad man this is, he has broke the promise of Odin. Being further asked what they meant by the promise of Odin, they put him in mind of the stone at Stenhouse with a round hole in it, and added that it was customary when promises were made, for the contracting parties to join hands through the hole, and the promises so made were called the promises of Odin.

This is from Principal Gordon’s “Remarks made in a Journey to the Orkney Islands” in 1781. It’s online here, in Archaeologia Scotica
ads.ahds.ac.uk/catalogue/adsdata/PSAS_2002/pdf/arch_scot_vol_001/01_256_268.pdf