Rhiannon

From a name of a farm in the immediate vicinity -- Dunree, in Gaelic Dun-righ, signifying the king’s stronghold -- it is inferred that the fort was distinguished by a royal appellative.

[..] In former times, Cassillis Downans was regarded as a favourite haunt of the fairies of Ayrshire, and a popular tradition still exists illustrative of their peculiar attachment to the locality. The old house of Cassillis, it is said, was originally intended to have occupied a site on the top of the hill, but the fairies were so much opposed to this that they invariably demolished at night what had been built during the day -- removing the stones and other material to the spot where the castle now stands -- until the proprietor, convinced of the folly of contending with his invisible opponents, at length gave up the contest.

From The Scottish Journal, 1847.

The Devil’s Stane.
This is a large rock which stands in the middle of a cultivated field near the parish church of Kemnay, Aberdeenshire, and which, tradition affirms, the Devil threw at the church from the neighbouring mountain of Bennachie, in order to revenge the good deeds of the parish priest.

A note to accompany a poem about the stone, in The Scottish Journal, 1847. It sounds like a good bit of geological speculation – the Boulder Committee of the Royal Society of Edinburgh say

there is a boulder of grey granite, called the Devil’s Stone, estimated to weigh about 250 tons, which lies not far from the old kirk. There is no rock of that nature in Kemnay parish, but there is at Bennachie, a hill about seven or eight miles to the westward.

The photos on the Megalithic Portal suggest this place is rather superb. Far from being discovered in 1835 (as the Canmore record suggests), this souterrain must surely have been known for long before that? The story is a bit wordy but bear with me.

In the time of the later Jameses, a noted freebooter of the name of Cumming, with his eleven sons, was the scourge of Strathspey and the more distant glens of Perthshire, and long baffled the feeble efforts of the law.

An artificial cave, the retreat of the band, is still entire, and is known locally as “Uamh Mor,” the great cave or den. It is cut in the face of a green hill, about a mile and a half east from Kingussie [...]. The cave is crescent-shaped, and about fifty feet from end to end; and, as the soil is friable, it must have been formed with great difficulty.

At the centre, the width is about six feet, and the height about seven; but towards the western end, both height and breadth contract so much that, at the mouth, the space will only admit, by crawling eel-like, one man at a time. A few feet from this narrow entrance, the passage has been guarded by a strong door; and the boles built in the walls show that the bar must have been a tree of at least three feet in circumference: at the eastern end, the cave widens to a breadth of eight or nine feet, adn the roof is of about an equal height, so that a somewhat spacious chamber is formed. The walls of the cave are of large stones, rudely built together; the roof consists of a series of large flagstones stretching from wall to wall; and the floor is of earth or clay. To the centre of the cave there is a second entrance, by a flight of steps, that seems to have been concealed by a trap-door.

Cumming and his eleven sons were all, according to tradition, tall and powerful men; and the cave was formed by them in the night time; the earth, as it was thrown out, being carefully carried down the hill and cast into a deep dark pool of the Spey. The stones for the walls and the roof were brought from a higher part of the hill; and such was the strength of the sons, it is said, that only two of them were required to carry one of the great flagstones down the hill.

To save you from the waffling, I’ll summarise. The murderous Cummings finally wound up a Macpherson enough that he vowed to rumble them. He pretends to be a gravely ill beggar to gain admittance to the bothy (it’s not explained how he actually knows about the bothy). He notices the old women are baking far more bannocks than they can eat and realises they’re being transferred to the cave below. He dashes to Perth to call the authorities. The authorities haul them out one at a time and don’t even bother with a trial, they just despatch them there and then. Which seems rather unfair. But there is an afterword:

This is the story told by tradition, and I give it without attempting to prove its truth. I have, however, visited the cave; and the story was told to me as I sat within the dark, grave-like, chamber.

I may add that, to this day, according to the belief of the district, the descendants of the Macpherson who betrayed the Cummings are troubled with the disease, the pains of which were feigned by their predecessor.

Reported by J.C.P. in The Scottish Journal in 1847.

Druidical Temples in Scotland.
Severeal of the Druids’ places of worship are still to be seen in the Highlands. [..] In our own neighbourhood, above Dochmaluag, there is a pretty large one, the stones of which, it is maintained by many of the peasants in the district, are said to have been, at one time, human beings, which were overtaken with judgment for dancing on the Sabbath day, and that the position of the stones exactly corresponds with the different attitudes of the dancers. Hence the name Clachan Gorach, or foolish stones. -- Rossshire Advertiser.

Quoted in The Scottish Journal, 1847.

This bump in the landscape seems to consist of Spy Knowe (crowned by a cairn) and the slightly higher top of Green Hill. This area’s landscape features in the Ayrshire ballad ‘The Laird o’ Changue’, which is reproduced here in the Scottish Journal (issue 3, 1847). The notes explain some folklore associated with the top of (what I infer to be) this hill. I am resisting any unwarranted comparisons with the shape of cup and ring marks.

On the conical top of the green hill of Craganrarie, where the indomitable Changue took up his position, are two foot-prints, which tradition asserts to be his, indented deeply in the surface, and around which, at about a sword’s length from the centre, are the “two rings” or circles which he drew around him, also strongly marked in the sward. Neither on them, nor on the foot-prints, does the grass ever grow, although it thrives luxuriantly around the very edges of the mysterious markings.

Canmore’s record notes that a Langdale/Scafell greenstone axe was found close by the hill in the 1920s.

About half-a-mile above the old churchyard, in a field by the roadside, are two large upright stones, known as “the Standing Stones of Orwell.” They are placed east and west of each other about fifteen yards apart – that to the west is flat, and about six feet in height – the one to the east is of a round form, tapering slightly to the ground, and stands nine feet high. The latter, although still of considerable size, has lost somewhat of its circumference within the last ten years, and, at the present moment, there is a large crack down one side, which, by the action of the weather, will lead to a further diminution of its bulk. It has not been ascertained to what depth these stones are embedded in the earth, but it must be considerable, in order to retain them in the position they occupy.

The common belief is, that these stones are of Danish origin, erected in commemoration of a victory, or to mark the spot where those who had fallen in battle were interred. This supposition is so far countenanced by the fact that a stone coffin, of large size, was found on digging up the space between the stones. Similar coffins have also been turned up in the same field, and, ten or twelve years ago, the ground was dug up in several places by a neighbouring proprietor, when large quantities of bones, much decomposed and mixed with charcoal, were discovered.

[...] Plausible as this [Danish] theory is, it nevertheless can scarcely be supposed that the Danes would be disposed to waste so much time in their marauding incursions, as the conveyance and erection of these stones would require, and the more especially as, during the time that they were so employed, they would be constantly exposed to the attacks of th enatives, who would be afforded ample time to gather in force, and who by no means relished the presence of such visitors. Moreover, had these been Danish monuments, they would, in all probability, have been overturned by the natives the moment that the invaders turned their backs. The most probable conclusion is , that both these stones, and those at Lundin, which are of much greater height, formed part of Druidic circles, and it is only by adopting some such conclusion that we can account for their preservation to the present time.

A healthy dose of scepticism from ‘W.H.’, in ‘The Scottish Journal‘ (issue 3, 1847).

I’m imagining this must be the place referred to by Thomas Pennant in his 1778 description of the battle of Coleshill. Maybe it’s a traditional idea. I can’t see mention of the names elsewhere, but the location fits the bill in the area? He says

.. the wise prince retired to a plain near St. Asaph, still called Cil-Owen, or Owen’s retreat; and from thence to a strong post, named Bryn y Pin, defended by great ramparts and ditches. This camp lies in the parish of St. George, on a lofty rock above the church, and is now called Pen y Parc.

The ‘wise prince’ is Owen Gwynedd, who is up against Henry II. According to Giraldus Cambrensis (writing relatively shortly after the 12th century battle) the triumph of the Welsh, who had a much smaller army, was down to the bad behaviour of Henry’s troops, who had been burning Welsh churches – divine retribution. But maybe it was actually due to the Welsh giving the English a good kicking due to superior tactics.

Mentioned by Thomas Pennant reporting on his 1773 Tour in Wales.

I must not pass unnoticed a strong British post, which soars above the road, about two miles [from Llys Edwin]. It lies on the summit of a hill, and is surrounded with a great foss and dike of a circular form [...] This post is called Moel y Gaer, or the hill of the fortress [...]

In later times, this spot proved fatal to a valiant partizan of Owen Glendwr. Howel Gwynedd was surprized in a negligent hour, within this post, and there beheaded.

Donkeys do have quite dainty feet, but even so, this first snippet perhaps supports the idea the holes are a bit big for human-created rock art. But that they require supernatural explanation is interesting in itself.

Here in Northumberland [pot holes] are the hoof-marks of a devil as at Birtley, or basins formed by Queen Mab and her train for bathing in, as tradition pleasingly narrates, at Rothley. The soul has almost gone out of such legends now, but time was when they were of earnest import to mankind.

The Rev. G. R. Hall, F.S.A., has told the Birtley legend in a former Volume of these Transactions. A wandering demon, once upon a time, was unwary enough to drink at the Holy Well. But the sacred water disagreed with him like molten lead, and dashing his hoofs upon the stone he leaped a full mile from the spot. He alighted upon the rock beside the Leap Crag Pool in the North Tyne; in which deep black hole “tradition averreth he was drowned.” At the Holy Well the tracks are about the size of a small donkey’s, if I dare use the comparison, and consist of several pairs as if the miserable being had waxed fidgetty; beside the pool they swell to the size of an elephant’s.

From a very long article called ‘Tynedale Escarpments’ by Hugh Miller, inNatural History Transactions of Northumberland, volume 7, 1877-79.

But if the marks are natural, the stone doesn’t sound near the water? It’s all rather unclear. Oh to nip up in the Van to check, it being a fine Sunday in (almost) summer.

The Birtley Halywell, or Holy Well, a chalybeate spring, issuing from the face of the sandstone cliff, amidst the ferns, harebells, heather, and other flowers that adorn its interstices, close to the romantic waterfall of the Holywell Burn, and to the curious so-called Devil’s Stone, or Rock, in the near neighbourhood also of two ancient British camps, or oppida, is worthy of special mention among the medicinal wells of North Tynedale.

Though I cannot learn that any particular reverence was formerly shown to this well, which now merely trickles down the ochreous sides of the cliff, at Midsummer, yet I find that people “from far and near” used until recently to visit it on fine Sunday afternoons in summer, and itinerant vendors of refreshments from the village, which is about a mile distant, were wont to be present on the spot. Here, in close proximity, still exists the great upright, weather-worn monolith-- apparently a detached fragment split from the adjacent rock by some natural convulsion --already spoken of as the Devil’s Stone. Tradition asserts this to have been, “once upon a time,” the scene of a Satanic leap, the very “hoof-marks” being yet visible on its altar-like summit in the shape of what geologists would call “pot holes” -- a leap intended to result in the demon’s descent at Lee Hall, on the opposite bank of the river, about half a mile distant; but the interval not having been carefully estimated, the consequence was a fall into the deepest abyss of North Tyne, just below the Countess Park Clints -- thence called the “Leap-Crag Pool,” where the Satanic personage is said to have been drowned!

From Archaeologia Aeliana volume 8 (1880), in an article called ‘Notes on Modern Survivals of Ancient Well-Worship in North Tynedale..” by the Rev. G. Rome Hall.

On ‘Barrow No. 1.’, the largest barrow:

A tradition, which I first heard during the progress of our excavations, was known to a former shepherd’s wife, an aged dame, who had often spoken to her family of her desire to dig into the great mound in search of “the treasure of silver” said to be secreted in this great fairy knoll, so like the Gaelic ”shian” associated with the hero Ossian. Children of the cottage have since told me they had often danced upon it and heard something “rattle and jingle” beneath their feet. Strange it is that the old dame’s wish had not long ago been gratified; but, deterred by superstitious feeling, the mystery of the cairn remained unrevealed.

From the 1887 Archaeologia Aeliana article “Recent explorations in ancient British barrows, containing cup-marked stones, near Birtley, North Tynedale”, by the Rev. G. Rome Hall.

Another and seemingly older interpretation of the name:

Oaks of a great size, firm and sound, have been taken out of a large moss on Bewick-Moor, called King‘s Moss, by the road from Chillingham to Alnwick, near a noted aperture in a freestone-rock, called Catherine‘s cave.

From ‘The Natural History and Antiquities of Northumberland‘, v1, by John Wallis (1769).

And for another version of the story about bold adventurers exploring the tunnel, it’s rather fun to see George Tate himself do the retelling, in The Border Magazine, November 1863.

The rocks are marked on old maps at NH628437, a short distance from the cairn. There is a well marked close by on the modern OS map, which is conceivably the same mentioned below? Or maybe the water runs straight from the rock?

Above the Inverness District Asylum, and immediately below the ascent to Craig Dunain, is “Fuaran a Chragain Bhric,” or the Well of the Spotted Rock. This was in former times a place of great resort, the waters, among other healing virtues, being supposed to be strongly diuretic. The bushes around were adorned with rags and threads; while pebbles, pins, and shells might be observed in the bottom of the spring. We have seen one juniper bush close by so loaded with rags and threads as to be hardly distinguishable. This was also a fairy well, and if a poor mother had a puny, weak child, which she supposed had been left by the fairies in place of her own, by exposing it here at night, and leaving some small offering, as a dish of milk, to propitiate the king of fairyland, the bantling would be carried off, and in the morning she would find her own, and restored in health.

-Alex Fraser, Northern Folklore on Wells and Water, p. 17.

Quoted by R C Hope in the Antiquary, v 1 (1880).

Another description comes from Reminiscences of a Clachnacuddin Nonagenarian (1886, but written 1830), which also mentions another well with an alleged druidic collection with the stones at Leachkin.

Fuaran a’ Chragan Bhreic, or Well of the Spotted Rock,
which forms an apt description, as the spring is situatednear a mass of rock, spotted with various specimens of moss. The water is said to be strongly diuretic, and used to be as much thought of, and resorted to by the inhabitants of Inverness, as now are the wells at Strathpeffer. A juniper bush grows beside the spring, and the mossy hillocks about it afford a seat to the tired pedestrian, whence he obtains a panoramic view of Inverness and the Moray Firth, which well repays the fatigue of the walk and ascent from the town.

The last celebrated spring in Inverness, which remains for us to notice is
Fuaran Ault an Ionnlaid, or Well of the Anointing Burn.

This is situated on the estate of Muirtown, opposite the toll-gate, and immediately below Craig Phadric. Tradition states, that Montrose, while being conveyed a prisoner from Sutherlandshire to Edinburgh, on passing this well, begged of his guards to unloose him from the horse to which he was tied, and allow him to quench his thirst at this well. The request was complied with, and the noble prisoner expressed the great relief and refreshment which it afforded him.

Above Leaken, and between this well and the one previously mentioned, are the remains of a Druidical temple, and it is said the Anointing Well derived its appellation from the circumstance of the Druidical priests resorting to it to bathe and anoint themselves previously to engaging in their solemn religious rites. Like the other springs before specified, this fountain was celebrated for the wonderfully curative effect of its waters, until about 1730, when a soldier’s wife is said to have therein washed her child afflicted with scurvy, since which the healing properties of the Annointing Well have forsaken the fluid. [...] The late proprietor, Colonel Duff, had inscribed upon the neat stone-work that protects the spot, the following words:--
Luci Fontisque Nymphis.

Somewhere nearby there was another stone with child-related fairy folklore. Canmore summaries its mention in a journal from 1885:

The hollow stone lies on the summit on the ridge of Leachkin above the Mental Hospital. The stone is flat and hollow in the centre [and] resembles in size and shape a child’s coffin. The greater part remains but the foot is broken or weathered away. At one end it used to be hooded over like a cradle and was known variously as Cradle-stone and Clach-na-shia (Fairies’ stone).

Alas the OS could not find it in 1962. But I would hope that’s not a definitive end to the matter.

Archaeologia Cambrensis for 1889 has a translation of the 12th century confirmation charter of Strata Florida abbey. It mentions ‘the Grange which is called Castell y Flemmis’, so the name is clearly an old one. The c19th notes offer an explanation for the name: “a considerable encampment, supposed to have been formerly thrown up and occupied by the Flemings of Pembrokeshire”. Maybe that theory about the name draws onGiraldus Cambrensis‘s report of people from Flanders being settled in Wales.

Baring-Gould mentions another name in his ‘Lives of the British Saints’: Vuarth Caraun / Buarth Caron – meaning Caron’s cattle-fold. He says “at” Castell Fflemish, near Tregaron. But what else round here would act as a good cattle-fold? It must surely refer to the fort?

Caron is the patron of nearby Tregaron (Plwyf Caron).If you wanted, you could see mixed up in the story a barrow and a christianised site?

The local tradition, still curent, varies – that he was a prince, a brave chieftain, or a bishop – but it agrees in saying he was buried where the church tower now stands, and that over his grave a large mound was raised. We have here evidently traditions of two distinct persons, a chieftain and an ecclesiastic, who have become mixed up in the popular mind.

Back in Tregaron on the other side of the Teifi, there was and is his well:

His Holy Well there, Ffynnon Garon, was at Eastertide, in days gone by, a centre of great attraction for the young of both sexes. On Easter Eve crowds of children resorted thither, each one bringing a small mug or cup and a quantity of brown sugar, and drank copious draughts of the water sweetened with sugar. On Easter Day, or Low Sunday, the swains met their sweethearts at the spot, and made them gifts of white bread (bara can), which they ate, washing it down with the crystal spring water in token of affection.

On the other side of the rock (f) in fig. 9, Plate VII. is an exact circular hole, as is seen in fig. 11, Plate VIII.* which is a South view of the Tor. I found there was no possibility of getting near enough to examine this rock, but I should suppose, from the little channels on the other sides, that there are rock basons on the top.

There are many large rocks scattered about, which must have fallen from the top, where, when they stood erect, filling up every part of this elevated Tor, the effect must have been sublimely striking to the superstitious Britons, who had been taught to venerate those sacred rocks.

That the Druids had fixed upon this hill for the celebration of their religious rites, I think cannot be doubted; it was usual to inclose their places of worship, and here a fence of large rough stones now plainly appears to have surrounded the rocks near the bottom of the hill.

Some druidic imaginings in An Account of the Druidical Remains in Derbyshire. In a Letter to the Right Honourable Frederick Montague, FAS. By Hayman Rooke, Esq. FAS. In Archaeologia v12 (1796).

I cannot see (f) in fig. 9 here but I guess it’s the one right at the top.

(*seems to be labeled no.12, but that is my bad cropping of the picture.)

At the South-west end of Stanton moor, in the Peak, and in Hartle liberty, is an assemblage of rocks, which stand on the summit of a circular hill called Graned Tor, but more commonly known by the name of Mock Beggar’s Hall.

When I had the honour of communicating to the Society some years ago an account of the Druidical monuments in that neighbourhood, I had not an opportunity of examining this Tor with that accuracy which is necessary in the investigation of these ancient monuments; but having been since in the vicinity of these rocks, at the house of my worthy friend Bache Thornhill, esq. to whose politeness I am much indebted, I requently examined every accessible part of this Tor, and, notwithstanding the many large rocks that have fallen from the top, there is sufficient evidence of its having been a curious group of Druidical monuments.

Fig. 9, Pl. VII. is a North-west view of Graned Tor; the rock marked (a) with four rock basons, is 29 feet in circumference, and plainly appears, from its present position, to have fallen from the top. The three stones (b, c, d,) seem to have been placed by art, and the uppermost is, I think, very likely to be a rocking stone, but there was no possibility of getting near enough to make the experiment.

Whilst I was taking a drawing of this Tor, an old man who stood by, told me that he remembered when he was a boy, his grandfather’s pointing to the stone (b), and saying, it had always been called the Great Altar, and that several other rocks had names, but he had forgot what they were. We are led by traditional accounts to form probable conjectures; and, as the Heathens always placed their altars on their highest ground, there is great reason to suppose that this elevated rock was a Druidical altar.

At the bottom of the third rock from the top, marked (d), is a large rock bason of an oval shape, diameter 4 feet by 2 feet 10 inches, which evidently appears to be cut with a tool; the rock (e) is placed slopingly against the rock (d), and forms a kind of cavity, big enough to hold three or four people, in which is the rock bason above-mentioned.

Fig. 10 is a near view of this aperture, whence there is a very extensive prospect, of course well calculated for the purpose of divination.

Stone (a) is the one on the left with four big holes in it. Stone (b) is the highest on the right, with (c) and (d) beneath it, and (e) being the pointy one overlapping (d).

From An Account of the Druidical Remains in Derbyshire. In a Letter to the Right Honourable Frederick Montague, FAS. By Hayman Rooke, Esq. FAS. In Archaeologia v12 (1796).

There is in the Peak of Derbyshire a very remarkable rocking stone, called by the country people Robin Hood’s Mark; it stands on the edge of a declivity near the top of a hill on Ashover common, looking down upon Overton hall, an estate of Sir Joseph Banks, Bart. the respectable President of the Royal Society, who will undoubtedly preserve this curious Druidical monument.

Fig. 1. plate V. represents the South view of this rocking stone, which, from its extraordinary position, evidently appears not only to have been the work of art, but to have been placed with great ingenuity; the two upper stones (a and b) have been shaped to fit exactly with the two upright stones (c and d) on which they rest; and so artfully contrived, that the lower stone (b) moves with the upper stone (a). It measures about 26 feet in circumference.

That this is a Druidical monument formed by art, cannot, I think, be denied; we are assured that the Druids were well skilled in the art of magic, by which the superstitious Britons were led implicitly to believe in the miracles performed by these rocking stones.

At about two hundred yards North of this rocking stone, is a singular shaped rock called the turning stone. See fig. 2. plate V. It stands on the edge of a hill on Ashover common; height nine feet. It was a very ancient practice among the Britons to make three turns round their sacred rocks and fires, according to the course of the sun. Martin, in his account of the Western isles, says, “that in the Isle of Barry there is one stone about seven feet high, and when the inhabitants come near it, they take a religious turn round according to the ancient Druid custom.” Hence there is great reason to suppose, that the above-mentioned stone was a rock idol to whom the Druids offered up their devotional rites.

From ‘An Account of the Druidical Remains in Derbyshire. In a Letter to the Right Honourable Frederick Montague, FAS. By Hayman Rooke, Esq. FAS.’ In Archaeologia v12 (1796).

Of the Bolleit cave it is said that the roof will fall in and crush any one who remains there more than a certain number of minutes.

Just to cheer you up if you’re visiting. From Churches of West Cornwall by J T Blight (1885).

Edward Lhuyd gives us to understand that the parish church of Cellan, in Cardiganshire, which he writes “Keth-Lhan,” is dedicated to [St Callwen], and that there is a spring there called “Ffynnon Calhwen.” All Saints is the dedication now usually given to the church. On one of the mountains in the parish is a cistvaen called Bedd y Forwyn, the Virgin’s Grave.

Maybe this is the right place. Coflein doesn’t mention the name. But The Cambrian Traveller’s Guide says “Upon the mountain to the N. of the river Frwd, are two beddau or graves; and on an eminence to the S. are two more, one of which is called Bedd-y-forwyn, or the Virgin’s Grave.” So it’s in the right sort of place.
Edward Llwyd was writing in the 17th century.

There were curative wells at Cerne; one called Pill Well, now dry, and St. Austin’s Well, anciently Silver Well. Hel Well still flowing, in a marshy place covered with trees and brushwood, was not curative. A man now living, named Vincent, aged fifty-five years, had a crippled child. Every morning, for several months together, Vincent carried his child, wrapped in a blanket, to St. Austin’s Well, and dipped it into the well, and at last it was cured. Sore eyes are healed by bathing them, and feeble health is restored by drinking. A farmer used to go down to this well every morning and drink a tumblerful of the water. (Jonathan Hardy, aged 65, born at Cerne, and now sexton there.) I have not analysed the water, but can affirm that it is not chalybeate. The spring sometimes “breaks,” that is, suddenly begins to flow with increased energy. Its water never freezes.

[...]

If anyone looks into St. Austin’s Well the first thing on Easter morning he will see the faces of those who will die within the year. (--Miss Gundry.)

St Austin’s Well also seems to be called St Augustine’s well. But it’s interesting that it gets a non-religious name too? The well is just south of the Abbey, which is to the south of the Giant and Trendle hill.
From ‘Dorset Folklore Collected in 1897’ by H. Colley March, in Folklore v10, Dec 1899.

In front of a blacksmith’s shop here, occupying a vacant spot a little out of the upper road leading to Ledbury, near Colwall Green, is a mass of rough limestone rock, which bears the name of “Colwall Stone.” I observed this name inscribed on an old map of Herefordshire; but have been unable to ascertain the purport of the stone, or its origin. I should feel inclined to consider it of the Druidical age, or at any rate a boundary or manorial “hoar stone;” but Mr. Allies states [... see other Folklore post].

The tradition I myself heard respecting the stone (which would carry us back to the times of Celtic heathenism) was, that it had been a place of worship (an idolatrous stone?) before the church was erected, and that the poor of the parish formerly received pay on this stone.

From ‘Pictures of nature in the Silurian region around the Malvern Hills..‘ by Edwin Lees (1856).

How the north side [of the chamber] was formed there is no evidence to shew. If a single slab stood there, it must have been removed when a pit was dug in front of it, some years ago, by a treasure-seeker. We have here again the old story, so often told in connexion with the destruction and plundering of ancient monumental structures. A miner in the neighbourhood had long set a covetous eye on the barrow as the storehouse of great riches; and one night he had so impressive a dream, bringing vividly before him a great crock of gold, that at dawn he proceeded to the mound, and dug the pit just referred to, exposing the kistvaen, into which he got full access; but what he found there, my informant, whom I accidentally met near the spot, and who knew the miner, could not tell; and as the explorer himself has since left Cornwall, there seems now to be but little chance of ascertaining what the cell contained, a state of things much to be regretted, as from its structure and peculiar position the barrow is of more than ordinary interest.

From Archaeologia Cambrensis v13, s3 (1867).

The only existing cromlech in the parishes of Llanllechid and Llandegai is situated in the upper part of the parish of Llandegai, near a small farm called Ffynnonbach. It goes locally by the name of “yr hen allor” (the old altar), and tradition, as usual, ascribes its erection to the Druids; and the use to which it is said to have been applied, is indicated in its being called an altar. But that the cromlech was a mere burial-place, has long since been settled. The cap-stone measures in breadth 5 feet; in length, 14 ft. 5 ins.; in thickness, about 1 ft. 6 ins. throughout.

More on the state of the stones in 1867, along with associated finds, in volume 13, series 3 of Archaeologia Cambrensis, viewable at the Internet Archive.

The fort is mentioned in a miracle play written down in 1504: ‘Beunans Meriasek’ – the Life of St Meriasek. It’s been suggested that it’s a subversively anti-English. It was written in Cornish, which few toffs would understand, and the villain is called Teudar, which sounds remarkably like Tudor. Teudar is an invader who is reigning by force. Meriasek says he needs baptising but Teudar isn’t having it and wants Meriasek hanged. The saint is warned in a vision and hides easily from Teudar’s soldiers under a rock, consecrating the spring there to cure the insane, and then runs off to Britanny.

The second part of the play introduces Teudar’s nemesis, the Duke of Cornwall, who vows to get rid of Teudar for having driven away the saint.

Me yv duk in oll kernow
indella ytho ov thays
hag vhel arluth in pov
a tamer the pen an vlays
tregys off lemen heb wov
berth in castel an dynas
sur in peddre
ha war an tyreth vhel
thym yma castel arel
a veth gelwys tyndagyel
henna yv o[v]fen tregse

I am Duke in all Cornwall:
So was my father,
And a high lord in the country
From Tamar to the end of the kingdom.
I am dwelling now, without a lie,
Within the castle of Dynas
Surely in Pidar,
And in the high land
I have another castle,
Which is called Tyntagel:
That is my chief dwelling-seat.

Pydar is one of the hundreds of Cornwall. You can see the play here in Whitley Stokes’ translation, published 1872. There is much interesting discussion of it here in J P D Cooper’s ‘Propaganda and the Tudor State’ (2003).

[A mysterious cavern] at Bolleit, in the parish of Buryan, which was so large and perfect in the time of the Great Rebellion, that Cavaliers were for some time concealed there; where, like the prophets of old, they were fed by Mr. Levellis of Trewoof, until opportunity offered for them to return to the King’s army.

From the second series, volume 4 of the Proceedings of the Society of Antiquaries of London (1868).

One day, [Sawyl] and his party broke in [to the monastery of S. Cadoc], and carried off meat and drink, but did no further damage. Cadoc was absent at the moment, but on his return learnt what had been done, and was further informed that the marauders were at a little distance, eating and drinking what they had ravished from his larder and cellars.

After they had gorged themselves with meat and ale, Sawyl and his rogues lay down to sleep. Cadoc seized the opportunity to inflict on them a stinging insult. He set his monks to shave half the heads of the drunken men, and then with the razors to slash off the ears and lips of their horses.

We are informed that Sawyl and his men had retreated to a hill-top for their carouse, and if our identification of the localities be accepted, this can have been none other than the Garn Goch. When the barbers had done their work, Cadoc and fifty of his clerics assumed their ecclesiastical vestments, and marched in procession to the hill to meet, and if possible, to mitigate the resentment of the freebooter.

What happened is veiled in fable. The earth opened and swallowed up Sawyl and his men, “and the ditch where they were engulfed is known unto this day to all the passers-by”. That nothing of the sort took place we may be pretty sure. What probably occurred was that the settlers in the neighbourhood assembled and assumed a threatening attitude, and the bully was fain to decamp.
[..] After this, Cadoc sang Te Deum, and blessed the men who had made his adversaries ridiculous, and had so barbarously mutilated the dumb beasts.

That last sentence sounds like S B-G disapproves of animal cruelty, which is pleasing. Surely saints shouldn’t be asking people to do such things. He supposes Sawyl might have been based at Pen-y-Ddinas (although that seems rather a long way to walk to go pilfering from monasteries). From The Lives of the British Saints, volume 2, by Sabine Baring-Gould (1908).

It was possibly whilst Cadoc was at Llangadog that he was annoyed by Sawyl Benuchel, who had established himself in the pleasant mountain basin of Cynwyl Gaio, where a bunch of rock, starting out of the level bottom that was once a lake bed, offered a suitable position for a caer, commanding as it did the entire basin. It bears the significant name of Pen-y-Ddinas, showing that at one time a stronghold occupied its crown, but the ruins of prehistoric fortifications have disappeared, as the hill has been converted into a rabbit-warren.

Below it stands Llansawel, leaving us to suspect that this ruffian in his old age turned saint and founder [...] The church is supposed to be dedicated to S. Sawyl Felyn ab Bledri Hir, and this may have been the chief who worried Cadoc, and later turned serious and founded the church [...]

Coflein notes that the area known as ‘the Warren’ was said to show remains of the fort at the turn of the 19th century. The hill has since been quarried.

A legend featuring Sawyl is connected with Carn Goch.

From The Lives of the British Saints, volume 2, by Sabine Baring-Gould (1908).

It’s possible this story relates to the fort (or indeed, it could relate to the Roman one of Cicucium, upriver). Whichever, you’d imagine the grain would be pretty manky. Which makes you wonder if it’s a remembrance of a real discovery somewhere here, combined with the stories of the saint?

Whilst Cadoc studied at Llanspyddid, famine raged in the land, and the master and his pupils were put to straits for food. However, Cadoc observed a mouse carrying a grain of wheat. He succeeded in catching it, and borrowing a thread from a widow, tied it to the foot of the little creature and let it run; whereupon it darted into a hole. Cadoc dug on the spot, and discovered an underground chamber stored with grain. Such secret granaries were by no means uncommon, and are found in many ancient Welsh, Irish and Scottish forts. Or it may have been that one of the hypocausts that have been discovered at Y Gaer had been used as a storehouse for grain. On this supply the master and his pupils were able to live for some time.

From ‘The Lives of the British Saints‘, volume 2, by Sabine Baring-Gould (1908).

Stoney connections and more on the well. The ‘great flat stones’ call to mind Moss’s post below.

Adjoining the church is the chapel of St. Beuno. The passage to it is a narrow vault covered with great flat stones, and of far greater antiquity than either church or chapel; which seem nearly coeval. [...] In the midst is the tomb of the saint, plain, and altar-shaped. Votaries were wont to have great faith in him, and did not doubt but that by means of a night’s lodging on his tomb, a cure would be found for all diseases. It was customary to cover it with rushes, and leave on it till morning sick children, after making them first undergo ablution in the neighbouring holy well; and I myself once saw on it a feather bed, on which a poor paralytic from Meirioneddshire had lain the whole night, after undergoing the same ceremony.

From Tours in Wales by Thomas Pennant, written in the late 18th century. By the time the edition in the link was published in the 1880s, the tomb had gone.

There are some recent photos of Ffynnon Beuno at the super Well Hopper website.

Also, a link where you can read about the offerings of special bullocks with slits in their ears in depth: in Baring Gould’s ‘Lives of the British Saints‘ here.

I admit this may be a bit unconvincing. But the Gwynedd Archaeological Trust do list it as an ‘alleged barrow’. So it may yet be there, and it may yet be something prehistoric.

Bach ab Carwed or Carwyd was the founder of Eglwys Fach [...] the parish is situated partly in Denbighshire and partly in Carnarvonshire [...] He is supposed to have been a Northern chieftain and warrior, who, retiring into North Wales, fixed upon this sequestered spot, and dedicated the close of his life to religion. [...]

Edward Lhuyd in his Itinerary of Wales (1698-9) says that Bach killed a certain wild beast which was the cause of much annoyance to the inhabitants on the banks of the Carrog near the church. The beast was a kind of wild boar, and they called it Carrog. A little after the slaughter Bach happened to kick the monster’s head, but through contact with one of its tusks bruised his foot, and died of the wound (cf. the case of Diarmait in the Irish legend). Another version represents this monstrous boar, which played the part of a mediaeval dragon, as having been killed by the united action of the inhabitants. There is yet another tradition, which attributes its slaughter to S. Beuno, who paid Eglwys Fach a special visit for the purpose. According to this, Carrog somewhat resembled a flying serpent, which made its appearance in the daytime, kidnapping and eating children. S. Beuno, from the church tower, directed an arrow to the tender spot on its throat – the only vulnerable part on its body – and this took fatal effect. There is a tumulus, called Bedd Carrog, at Eglwys Fach, which tradition points out as the monster’s grave. The word carrog means a brook or torrent and is the name of some half a dozen streams in Wales. A good number of the Welsh river names bear a “swine” signification, or are in some way or another associated by legend with swine.

From Lives of the British Saints by Sabine Baring-Gould (1907).

A bit more about St Aelhaiarn’s well, one of the springs below the fort. This is from Lives of the British Saints by Sabine Baring-Gould (1907).

S. Aelhaiarn’s well is an oblong trough of good pure water, by the road side, in which the sick were wont to bathe, and there are seats of stone ranged along the sides for the accommodation of the patients awaiting the “troubling of the waters,” when they might step in, full of confidence, in expectation of a cure.

This “troubling of the waters” is a singular phenomenon. At irregular intervals, and at various points in the basin, the crystal water suddenly wells up, full of sparkling bubbles. Then ensues a lull, and again a swell of water occurs in another part of the tank. This is locally called “the laughing of the water,” and it is said in the place that the water laughs when any one looks at it.

The Well now supplies the village with water. It was walled round and roofed by the Parish Council in 1900, after an outbreak of diphtheria in the village. The entrance is now kept locked.

Baring-Gould’s book also gives the saint’s story from the Itineraries of John Ray (1760). Please indulge me as it is so full of ancient weirdness.

“We were told a legend of one St. Byno , who lived at Clenogvaur, and was wont to foot it four Miles in the Night to Llaynhayrne, and there, on a stone, in the midst of the River, to say his Prayers; whereon they show you still the Prints of his Knees. His Man, out of Curiosity, followed him once to the Place, to see and observe what he did. The Saint coming from his Prayers, and espying a Man, not knowing who it was, prayed, that if he came with a good Intent, he might receive the Good he came for, and might suffer no Damage; but if he had any ill Design, that some Example might be shown upon him; whereupon presently there came forth wild Beasts, and tore him in pieces.

Afterwards, the Saint peceiving it was his own Servant, was very sorry, gathering up his Bones, and praying, he set Bone to Bone, and Limb to Limb, and the Man became whole again, only the part of the Bone under the Eyebrow was wanting; the Saint, to supply that Defect, applied the Iron of his Pike-staff to the Place, and thence, that Village was called Llanvilhayrne.

But for a punishment to his Man (after he had given him Llanvilhayrne) he prayed (and obtained his Prayer) that Clenogvaur Bell might be heard as far as Llanvilhayrne Churchyard, but upon stepping into the Church it was to be heard no longer; this the People hereabout assert with much Confidence, upon their own experience, to be true. The Saint was a South Wales Man, and when he died, the South Wales Men contended with the Clenogvaur Men for his Body, and continued the Contention till Night; next Morning there were two Biers and two Coffins there, and so the South Wales Men carried one away, and the Clenogvaur Men the other.”

The story of the restoration of Aelhaiarn out of his bones, one small bone being missing, is an adaptation of a very ancient myth. It occurs in the Prose Edda of Thor on his journey to Jotunhein. It is found elsewhere. The duplication of the body of Beuno has its counterpart in the triplication of that of Teilo.

Something a bit older, from ‘Memoires of the Family of Finney, of Fulshaw, (near Wilmslow) Cheshire, by Samuel Finney of Fulshaw, Esquire’, 1787. It’s printed in The Cheshire and Lancashire Historical Collector no. 11 (November 1853).

Lower down the Hill, just below the Beacon, is a Spring of very clear Sweet Water, that issues pretty plentifully out of the Rock, called the Holy Well, which, no doubt, in times of Superstition, had its Virtues, which are now unknown, though many young people, in the Summer time, resort to it in parties, and regale themselves with this water, which is still supposed to have a prolific quality in it.

There are at least nine wells at different parts of the Edge, the more conspicuous being the Wizard Well and the Holy Well. These, and especially the latter, were in ancient times connected with well-worship, and propitiatory offerings were made by people to the presiding deities, and also were frequently resorted to in Christian times, but doubtless the cult was observed here in much earlier days.

Their healing powers were considered to be unfailing; the barren, the blind, the lame, and bodily-afflicted constantly made their way thither; maidens whispered their vows and prayers over them, their lovers and their future lives being their theme. Crooked silver coins were dropped into the well, but these have been cleared out long ago.

At the present time the devotees are satisfied, in their economical habit, to offer mere pins and hairpins; the custom is not dead yet, for some of the immersed pins are still quite uncorroded and bright. Some of the sex deposit the pins in their straight and original form, others bend them only at right angle, and as many again seem to consider the charm alone to act effectively when carefully and conscientiously doubled up. Maidens of a more superficial cast just give the slightest twist to the object.

To judge from the state of corrosion, and the old-fashioned thick, globular heads, some of these pins must have been in the well for at least sixty years. We have brought three cases to show the various forms into which the visitors have tortured the pins, and classified them into groups. There are occasionally to be seen also a few white pebbles in the two wells.

From Recent archaeological discoveries at Alderley Edge by C Roeder and F S Graves, in the Transactions of the Lancashire and Cheshire Antiquarian Society for 1905 (v23). I seem to remember that Alan Garner said he got his pocket-money from (the Wizard’s?) well when he was a child.

The Lancashire and Cheshire Antiquarian Society had an outing here in May 1911. The ‘extensive prospect’ was ‘said to include thirteen counties’ (quite a claim). Sadly, ‘the summer haze prevented any such view at the time’.

Connected with Carn Brea Castle (the relic of which, now standing, bears but the shadow of the name), there has been, from a remote period of Cornish history, handed down from father to son, a legend [...] to the following effect:-
“I, John of Gaunt,
Do give the graunt
Of all my land and fee;
From me and mine-
To thee and thine-
Thou Basset of Bumberlie.”
This “John of Gaunt” was believed to be about the last of the giants (whether mystical or real) who once peopled Cornwall, and he resided in the Castle on the “Brea.” He could stride –
“From Carn Brea Castle to Tuckingmill Stile,”
a distance of several miles.

In

... the manor and see
Of Umberleigh,
And in token of my truth,
Do seal it with my tooth.”

– Umberleigh being the ancient seat of the Bassett family, near Barnstaple.

Fitzcoraldo’s story appears pretty much word for word in ‘The Monthly Chronicle of North-Country Lore and Legend’ for December 1889 (p 548-550). It’s followed immediately by this:

We may observe that what is commonly known as Fairy Butter is a certain fungous excrescence sometimes found about the roots of old trees. After great rains, and in a particular state of putrifaction, it is reduced to a consistency which, together with its colour, makes it not unlike butter; hence its name. When met with inside houses it is reckoned lucky. Why so, we cannot tell.

To the south-east of the village, near the river Codbeck, is a tumulus, popularly called “pudding pye hill;” the origin of which had long been a disputed point, some affirming it to be the remains of a watchtower pertaining to the Castle of Thirsk, others maintaining its sepulchral character. This dispute was finally set at rest in August, 1855, when Lady Frankland Russell the owner, employed a number of men, under the superintendence of Mr. James Ruddock of Pickering, to excavate the hill. [...]

The popular legend is -- that this hill was raised by the Fairies, who had their residence within; and if any person should run nine times round it, and then stick a knife into the centre of the top, then place their ear to the ground, they would hear the Fairies conversing inside.

From The Vale of Mowbray by William Grainge (1859).

When I first mentioned the Cadbury mound to my Auntie Bridie, she recounted a story from the 1950s about a man suffering a heart attack while felling one of the trees that grew upon it. This was attributed to the fairies taking retribution. More recently, I came across an account of a man who dug the ‘fairy mound’ and broke his leg. Another version of this tale tells of a strange face that appears under the branches of one of the trees at Hallowe’en and is thought to be that of a man who attempted to dig the mound and went missing that night. That these ‘suburban myths’ persist reveals much about local people’s regard for the past.

From Michael Stanley’s article ‘Chocolate and Community Archaeology’ in Archaeology Ireland (v25, no. 4, Winter 2011).

A subterranean passage was said to exist between the abbey [of Hailes] and Coscomb, and also to Beckbury, the camp above Hailes Wood; but no one in the present day can point out the whereabouts.

From the Transactions of the Bristol and Gloucestershire Archaeological Society for 1884-5.

The 12th century version of the story, in William of Newburgh’s “History”, book 1, chapter 28, ‘of certain prodigies’:

In the province of the Deiri, also, not far from the place of my nativity, an extraordinary event occurred, which I have known from my childhood. There is a village, some miles distant from the Eastern Ocean, near which those famous waters, commonly called Gipse, spring from the ground at various sources (not constantly, indeed, but every alternate year), and, forming a considerable current, glide over the low lands into the sea: it is a good sign when these streams are dried up, for their flowing is said unquestionably to portend the disaster of a future scarcity. A certain rustic belonging to the village, going to see his friend, who resided in the neighboring hamlet, was returning, a little intoxicated, late at night; when, behold, he heard, as it were, the voice of singing and reveling on an adjacent hillock, which I have often seen, and which is distant from the village only a few furlongs. Wondering who could be thus disturbing the silence of midnight with noisy mirth, he was anxious to investigate the matter more closely; and perceiving in the side of the hill an open door, he approached, and, looking in, he beheld a house, spacious and lighted up, filled with men and women, who were seated, as it were, at a solemn banquet. One of the attendants, perceiving him standing at the door, offered him a cup: accepting it, he wisely forbore to drink; but, pouring out the contents, and retaining the vessel, he quickly departed. A tumult arose among the company, on account of the stolen cup, and the guests pursued him; but he escaped by the fleetness of his steed, and reached the village with his extraordinary prize. It was a vessel of an unknown material, unusual color, and strange form: it was offered as a great present to Henry the elder, king of England and then handed over to the queen’s brother, David, king of Scotland, and deposited for many years among the treasures of his kingdom; and, a few years since, as we have learnt from authentic relation, it was given up by William, king of the Scots, to Henry II, on his desiring to see it.

Online at Fordham University’s Internet History Sourcebooks Project.

Household Tales with Other Traditional Remains by S O Addy (1895) says that

There is a stone called “the wishing stone” in a wood known as the Faybrick at Ashover, in Derbyshire. If you sit upon it and wish three times your wish will be granted.

I think it’s less of a wood now, but it’s marked on old maps as Fabrick Wood, and the stone is renowned locally if the discussions on Rootsweb are anything to go by. Some say it was used to build the church (which is 14th century) which gives a bit of a holy link. But it’s pronounced ‘Fay Brick’ – could it be named after the fairies? The rootsweb forum mentions someone local who ‘always believed it was a ‘fairy stone’.’ Just be careful with the wishing. You might get what you ask for.

The third [fort in the area] is much defaced but of greater note. It is called Doonmeeve on the maps, but Doonmihil and Dooneeva, locally. There are two segments of curved fosses coming out at a slope near the shore; they are cut through drift, and when a block of shale was met with it was neatly cut to the slope of the bank. the inner is dry, but a water runnel courses down the outer one. They are 6’ to 10’ deep and wide at the bottom in parts, the inner 28’, and the outer 20’ wide at the top. The bank between these is 22’ wide at the top. It probably enclosed a space on the cliffs, and could hardly be a promontory fort whose promontory was washed away by the unresting sea. Bronze implements have been found on the shore at the foot of the cliff which bounds its enclosure.

A very curious tradition as told us in the neighbourhood. A certain man, in not very remote past years, began to dig up the space inside its trenches, before he had been long at work he fell down and lay to all appearance dead. News was brought at once to his wife a reputed “wise woman,” who was evidently equal to the emergency. She rushed to the nearest fairy spot, did magic, and ran to Dooneva to her apparently lifeless husband. She then addressed herself to the unseen inhabitants of the fort and imperiously ordered them to bring back her husband at once. Rapidly as the deceased brother of the unvirtuous de Birchington, of Ingoldsby, the insensible man sat up and recovered complete strength, while a stick was carried off in his stead. After all the story in its facts, apart from their deductions, may very well have happened, and even the charms may have been done in as good faith as many others worked to our personal knowledge.

In Thomas Johnson Westropp’s Ancient Remains Near Lehinch, Co. Clare, online at Limerick City Library.

There’s a rather amusing photo of the author posing amidst ancient stones (and clutching his umbrella in a prepared fashion) on Wikipedia.

I wonder if the ‘stick carried off in his stead’ alludes to when the fairies replace healthy babies with a ‘stock’, a lump of wood disguised to look and act like a sickly baby.

From that spa-town [Lisdoonvarna] we go eastward, crossing the river valley, and seeing on a bold bluff a lofty mound – a reputed “fairy hill.”

Lissateeaun, Lis an tsidhean, the fairy fort, lies in a townland called Gowlaun, from the “fork” (Gabhal) of the stream. It is a mote-like mound, shaped out of the natural bluff, but raised and rounded so as to form a high flat-topped platform sufficiently imposing as seen from the road bridge to the east. A shallow fosse runs round it on the side of the plateau in a semicircle. There are no other mounds or hut sites, nor is it easy to fix its actual height, as it runs into the natural slopes. The summit lies about 400 feet above the sea.

Its resemblance to a burial mound may have helped its reputation as a sidh, but it very probably was, if not in origin, at least in use, a true lis or residential fort, as its name implies. Sidhean in Co. Clare living usage, by the way, implies rather a passing gust or whirl of wind in which the fairies travel. It is a prophylactic usage to bow or take off your hat as the gust reaches you.

The fort is reputed to give its name to the Castle of Lisdoonvarna, “the fortified fort of the gap.” The gap is the river gully, and the levelled ring wall at the head of the slope to the north is Caherbarna.

From Thomas Johnson Westropp’’s article on the Burren in Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland v 5 (sixth series) 1915.

Above the stone and the houses here is Parc Common and its modern gorsedd circle.

Carreg Fasnach
A spot, with a natural outcrop of rock, where tradition has it that Machynlleth markets were held during an outbreak of plague, the money used in barter being washed in the adjoining brook, called Nant yr Arian. -- Visited, 20th April, 1910.

An inventory of the ancient and historical monuments of the county of Montgomery (1911).

There are here two white stones, known as ‘y fuwch wen a’r llo,’ ‘the white cow and calf,’ standing close to one another on the moorland near the source of the Severn. They are best approached from Eisteddfa Gurig. The larger of the stones is 6 feet high, and the smaller 4 feet high. no local tradition would seem to be connected with them. -- Visited, 5th July, 1910.

An Inventory of the Ancient and Historical Monuments of the County of Montgomeryshire.

Ffynnon Geiliog.

A well situated about 20 yards to the west of the camp on Allt Dolanog, of great popular resort on Trinity Sunday. The name (’The Cock Well’) may have been derived from the practice of cock fighting which was carried on close to the spring.

An inventory of the ancient and historical monuments of Montgomery (1911).

Lled Croen yr Ych, ‘the Width of the Ox’s Hide’.

The tradition explanatory of this name is thus given by the late Mr. Richard Williams, F.R.hist.S.: “Once upon a time two ‘ychain bannawg’ (long-horned oxen) were separated, one being placed on the top of this mountain and the other on the top of the hill between Llanbrynmair and the Cemmes; that the two bellowed to each other until both died of grief because of their separation, and that the one which died here was skinned, and his skin spread out over the spot where he was buried, this circle of stones being set up to mark its dimensions” (’Hist. of the Parish of Llanbrynmair,‘ Mont. Coll., 1888, xxii, 308).

Quoted in An inventory of the ancient and historical monuments of the county of Montgomery (1911).

Near the top of the hill is a huge stone in the hedge to the right of the road. This is the Buck Stone, and in olden days, when the passengers used to toil up the hill behind the coach, a practical joke was often played on guileless travellers. They used to be told to put their heads near the stone to listen to the tide coming in over the Bay miles away, and if they did so their heads were knocked against the stone. Now the narrow old coach road is private, but Mr. Bainbridge at Greenlands Farm would allow anyone to inspect the stone if desired.

From T Pape’s Warton and George Washington’s Ancestors

(1913).

I can’t see this marked on a map so I’ve given it the grid reference for the Dog Holes cave for now.

Not far from the Dog Lots is a large natural seat in the face of a great limestone boulder, which towers to a height of eleven feet. The seat will accommodate three or four people, and is known as the Bride’s Chair. It was customary years ago when a marriage took place at Warton Church for the bridal party to repair to this spot and for the bride to sit in this seat and look out over the wide expanse of Morecambe Bay. By doing so happiness in their married life was ensured to the newly wedded couple.

Almost sheer down two hundred feet below is the road to Silverdale, and in the direction of that village can be seen the large stone column at Jenny Brown point.

From Warton and George Washington’s Ancestors by T Pape (1913).

I think this stone and its tradition was mentioned in Lucas’s history of Warton, written in the first half of the 18th century (but i’ve not seen a copy – in fact, has anybody, full stop?!).

The Dog Holes Cave is known locally as “Three-fingered Jack’s Cave.” According to tradition the cave consisted of two storeys and a highwayman used one for his horse and the other for himself.

From Warton and George Washington’s Ancestors by T Pape (1913).

On the eastern side of Warton Crag is a small fissure cave situated in the face of a cliff immediately below one of the numerous limestone terraces. It is called the Fairy Hole, which trends for twenty-five feet in a north-easterly direction. In this cave also there were fragmentary human remains. According to report the cave extends to Leighton Hall. It certainly does not come to a full stop at the limit of twenty-five feet. If more debris were removed the chamber would open up considerably.

Old people used to tell of the fairies, having been seen by other old people, dancing about heaps of gold or silver or bleaching fine linen or they were frequently heard batting their clothes. There are still some of the old people in the village who believe that the passage from the Fairy Hole extends to Leighton Hall.

From Warton and George Washington’s Ancestors by T Pape (1913).