Rhiannon

Another giant-related location in the area was the Giant’s Grave. The Canmore record says it was a cairn removed at the start of the 19th century, and there’s nothing more to be seen. They say it was supposed to be at NT 0925 2410.

Over against the foot of Hawkshaw-Burn in a Kairn beside the High road is the Giants Grave, so called from a huge and mighty Fellow, that robbed all on the way, but was at length from a Mount in the over side of the River supprised and shor to Death as Tradition goes.

(Shot I suppose?) From ‘A Geographical, Historical description of the shire at Tweeddale’ by Alexander Pennecuik, 1715.
archive.org/stream/geographicalhist00penn#page/n35

In effecting some improvements, a few years ago, on the farm of Ardross, it was found necessary to remove one of these cairns; but the people had a tradition that “the plague was buried under it,” and refused to touch it; and it was with no small difficulty, that they were at length induced to assist in its removal.

This extract from the Rosskeen chapter of the 1834-45 Statistical Account could refer to Carn Na Feinne (which is certainly near Ardross), but I guess even if not, it gives an idea of local beliefs about cairns. There’s not much of it left – just the thick slabs of sandstone and schist that made up the chamber.

In some of the cairns which were removed, sculls and bones of a very large size were found. One of these cairns bears the name of Carna nam Fiann, i.e. the cairn of the Fingalians.

The next example of reputed Druidical remains in this county, which I shall describe, is to be found in Saddleworth. There is a lofty hill, called by the neighbouring people Pots and Pans. Upon its summit are abundance of craggy stones scattered up and down, which, when viewed from the east, look like the foundation or ruins of some stupendous fabric.

One of these stones, or rather two of them, closely joined together, is called the Pancake. It has upon its surface four basins hollowed in the stone, the largest, being nearly in the centre, is capable of holding 8 or 10 gallons; but it is not possible to ascertain whether these hollows are artificial or natural. This stone is about 76 feet in circumference; another long uneven hole upon this stone is called Robin Hood’s Bed.

A little westward of this is another stone, about 20 feet in heght, and about 56 feet in circumference at the base, but much narrower at the top, from whence proceed irregular flutings or ridges down one side, of about 2 feet long, by some supposed the effect of time, and by others the workmanship of art.

More westward, and nearer the valley of Greenfield, the ground is called Alderman’s, and overlooks that valley, opposite to a large and high rock called Alphian. Upon the level of this ground is a fissure in the earth, about 12 or 14 yards long, each end terminating in a cavernous hole in the rock, one of which is capable of admitting dogs, foxes, or sheep: the other large enough to receive men. Neither of these caverns has been thoroughly explored by anyone within memory.* One person who went into the larger with a light, returned after having gone down a sloping descent of about 60 yards. Tradition says, into the other hole, once went a dog in full chase after a fox, but neither of them ever returned.

*This is an extract from an account of these rocks written fifty years ago. Since that time demolition has been at work, and what time has spared has been wantonly injured. Many of these large and ponderous stones have been removed by crows and levers, for the purpose of trying how far they would tumble. Thus we find the hand of violence uniting with the devouring teeth of time, determined scarcely to leave one stone upon another upon this once sacred ground.

From ‘Some Observations on Certain supposed Druidical Remains in the County of York’, by JK Walker, in the Gentleman’s Magazine for 1839, part 1, pp 133-140.

In modern times, everything unaccountable, however harmless it might be in itself, was ascribed to the agency of the devil. By the hope of a trifling reward – too often the soul of his employer – he might be induced to undertake the execution of any kind of structure. The Pikes on Carrock Fell are specimens of his diabolical architecture, though for what they were intended, tradition does not inform us; and the stones scattered about the summit of the hill, are the result of an accident that happened to him whilst engaged in their erection. He had finished one, and was bringing in his apron a sufficient quantity of stones to complete the second, when the apron-strings burst, and the greater part of his materials scattered in all directions. And this, it appears, is the reason why one of the Pikes is so much smaller than the other. The heap of stones in Ullswater is ascribed to a similar accident. On this occasion also he had his apron laden, and was striding in great haste from the Nab to Barton Fell, when the stones fell into the lake, and formed a bank dangerous to boats at some seasons.

From ‘Cumberland and Westmorland, ancient and modern’ by Jeremiah Sullivan (1857).
archive.org/stream/cu31924104090778#page/n139

There is a reputed well in the rock of Clegyr Voya that is supposed always to have water in it, but to fill especially when the tide flows. It is a small hollow in the igneous rock, from which a core or crystal has fallen, and is about large enough for the fist to be inserted. This “Fynnon” is still in repute, and its water is regarded as sovereign, especially for sore eyes.

Whilst I was engaged on the exploration of Clegyr Voya, I went several times a day to the reputed spring, but never found water in it, though the rock and sediment at the bottom remained wet.

A tradition exists that, eighty years ago, a party of men resolved on treasure seeking in the camp. The first day, they had hardly begun to dig before a pouring rain came on which drove them away. They went again, and next day a thunderstorm broke over them; but they did not leave till they had uncovered a kettle. They attempted the third day to dig out the kettle, but on reaching the rock thunder and lightning played about it, and the storm continued with such violence, and so long, that they retreated and abandoned the attempt. The origin of the story seem to be this:-- It is commonly held that a subterranean passage connects Clegyr Voya with St. David’s Cathedral, and that considerable treasure is hidden in it.

From the Rev. S Baring-Gould’s article on ‘The Exploration of Clegyr Voya’, in Archaeological Cambrensis, January 1903.
archive.org/stream/archaeologiacam65assogoog#page/n12

The solitary pillar of the circle at Ballinrait is said to have served the purpose of a sun dial, just as a tree or post in the same neighbourhood was the clock of the clachan. The other stones of the circle were broken up some sixty years ago. It is related that one old man used every morning to walk round the circle three times before beginning work, from the belief that his so doing would bring him good luck.

From ‘History of Nairnshire’ by George Bain, 1893.
archive.org/stream/historyofnairnsh00bainuoft#page/4

Near this cairn and the cup-and-ring-marked rock is a stone called Clach Ceann a’ Mheoir. I can’t find a photo of it. But it gets named on the OS map so I think it must be quite sizeable. It’s got its own folklore:

In the parish of Rosskeen there is a large boulder-stone called Clach ceann nam meur, the “Stone of the Finger Ends,” at the east of the Farm of Dalnacloich, “the field of the stone.” Connected with this stone is a tradition which shows it as a horrible memorial of feudal times – that a laird of Achnacloich, when settling marches, asked a youth, whom he had taken to witness the settlement, whether he would remember that as the march-stone. On his replying that he would, the Laird commanded him to lay his hand flat upon the stone, and with a stroke of his sword cut off the tips of the lad’s fingers, saying, “You will remember it now.” And posterity still remembers it.

This seems so unwarranted and unpleasant I can’t help wondering whether the name comes from something else.. yes I’m just looking for a cupmarky connection. Sometimes stones are said to bear the fingermarks of some giant or devil. Wouldn’t it be nice if there were some fingermarks on the stone... if you’re passing you could look?!

Quote from ‘Names of Places in Easter Ross’ by the Rev. William Taylor, in The Scottish Geographical Magazine, v2, 1886.
archive.org/stream/scottishgeograph02scotuoft#page/16/

Holy Well, Humphrey Head. -- This celebrated medicinal well is said to have been used by lead miners from the time of the Romans. The patients come for a two or three days’ stay to “get the poison out of their systems.” The site is three and a half miles nearly due south from Cartmel. The water, which has a very peculiar taste, comes down from the hillside and flows into a small artificial basin or grotto. The key of the door is kept at a neighbouring farmhouse. Close to the well is an untenanted building formerly used by indigent sufferers. The wooded cliff forming “The Head” is of singular beauty, overlooking the waters and sands of Morecambe Bay. On Hennet’s map of Lancashire (1828) the well is called “Spa Holy Well.” ..

Mr. W. O. Roper, in his Churches, Castles, and Ancient Halls of North Lancashire, writes: “One other appendage to the Priory of Cartmel should be mentioned, and that is the well known as the Holy Well. On the sea-shore, close under the towering cliffs of Humphrey Head, and almost immediately below the natural arch of rock which leads to the recess known as the Fairy Chapel, bubbles the well to which in former days the Priors journeyed in state from their neighbouring Priory, and to which in more recent times large numbers of people resorted, hoping to derive benefit from its medicinal qualities.”

Mr. James Stockdle, in Annals of Cartmel, writes: “Near to this holy well (Humphrey Head) are two cavities in the mountain limestone rock called the ‘Fairy Church’ and the ‘Fairy Chapel,’ and about three hundred yards to the north there used to be another well, called ‘Pin Well’, into which in superstitious times it was thought indispensiable that all who sought healing by drinking the waters of the holy well should, on passing it, drop a pin; nor was this custom entirely given up till about the year 1804, when the Cartmel Commoners’ Enclosure Commissioners, on making a road to Rougham, covered up this ‘Pin Well’. I have myself long ago seen pins in this well, the offerings, no doubt, of the devotees of that day.”

Mr. Hope, in his Holy Wells of England, says that “this is a brackish spring celebrated as a remedy for stone, gout, and cutaneous complaints..”

From ‘The Ancient Crosses of Lancashire’ by Henry Taylor, in Transactions of the Lancashire and Cheshire Antiquarian Society (v21, 1903).
archive.org/stream/transactionslan17socigoog#page/n44

There is a curious mound by the side of the Blackadder, on the north of the stream, called “the King’s Grave,” which may be a natural eminence, or may have been formed by the debris of a rush of water through a ravine nearly opposite to it, but which certainly has the appearance of having been stirred – dug into – on a part of its extent, the tradition connected with which, seems to carry the mind back to the same stern times [of the sixth century].

The residence, according to this old tale, of a British Chief was surprised by Saxon assailants in his absence, and all who belonged to him were murdered or carried away, with the exception of one infant child who was a twin, who happened to have been carried out at the time in the arms of his nurse, and was by her concealed and preserved.

Many years afterwards this British Chief met a Saxon army, and the place of meeting must have been some where near to these lines. It was proposed by the Saxon leader and agreed to, that the matter in dispute between them should be decided by combat, one champion being chosen from each army. The Saxon champion was the Briton’s stolen son, whose life had been spared by his enemies when they put to death the other members of his family who were in their power. It was his twin brother who represented the British host – and the two kinsmen both fell – mutually slain, and lie buried, as the tradition which I seek to give says, under the large and contiguous cairns on the “Twinlaw,” a prominent eminence of the Lammermuir range, a few miles to the west. The armies having afterwards engaged in battle on the southern descent of the Lammermoors, near to Wedderlie, the British Chief was himself either mortally wounded or slain in the action, and, on the route of his dispirited army, was interred in that lonely mound by the Blackadder.

It’s not very convincing is it? If I’d met my long lost twin I don’t think I’d set to murdering him. But that seems to be the story. There is a ballad about it too, which you may read some of in the rest of the article by the Rev. John Walker, here:
biodiversitylibrary.org/item/110629#page/124
in volume 2 of the History of the Berwickshire Naturalists’ Club (1864). There’s also a version in vol 30
biodiversitylibrary.org/item/110767#page/326/mode/1up

Ffynon Fair (St. Mary’s Well). -- This is a spring and well near the church. It was a holy well and under the guardianship of the Virgin. Its water was used for the sacred uses of the Church, as in the font for baptism, etc. , and in years gone by it was held in great repute for its curative properties, especially as a bath for rheumatic complaints and cutaneous disorders. It was formerly held also to have talismanic properties as a protective against curses, witchcraft, and other evils of life. But what was the superstitious cantrap necessary to be used to make it efficacious is not now known.

This is from ‘A parochial history of Llanfair Caereinion’ in ‘Collections Historical and Archaeological relating to Montgomeryshire and its borders’ (1868). You can read about the several other wells in the area and their curative powers.

archive.org/stream/montycollections16powyuoft#page/340

“Prehistoric Monuments and their Superstitions” is a chapter in Sir Edgar MacCullogh’s ‘Guernsey Folklore’, which you can now read on the Internet Archive. There is also a chapter on “Natural Objects and their Superstitions”. The book was edited and published in 1903, but much of the information was gathered many years before that.

If the rocks look like this, I’m not surprised.

Under the cliffs of Peninnis Head on St Mary’s there is a cavern, termed the Piper’s Hole, which extends a long distance under ground, and is absurdly said to communicate with another cave of the same title, the entrance to which is in the island of Tresco. This legend would make the length of the cavern at least four miles; and the inhabitants of the locality tell you of dogs let in at the one entrance coming out, after a time, at the other with most of their hair off, so narrow are some parts of the cave. So there is a tradition in Scotland of a man getting through a similar cave, but paying the penalty in the loss of all his skin.

From ‘Rambles in Western Cornwall’ by J O Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

On this down and its environs, are a number of rocks and columnar stones, of various sizes and in various figures. They are thus noticed by a correspondent of Dean Milles:

“On Maddoc-common, one stone is of a remarkable size, and one only. It is of a conic figure, not so large at the base, as near its center, occasioned by the sheep rubbing against it. At the center, it measures fifteen feet four inches. The height, about which I could not be so exact, I take to be eleven feet, if not more. In a line parallel to this great stone, from south to north, and at the distance of twenty-four paces, lies a trunk of stone, about a foot from the ground, whose diameter is two feet eight inches. About twelve paces distant from this, in a line from west to east, is a stone not a foot above the ground, and about a foot in diameter. Were there another to correspond to the large one, these four would include a space of ground, whose opposite sides would be equal.

I counted more than an hundred clusters of stone in different parts. In some places, six, eight, or more are to be seen together, but not remarkable for their height. At one groupe of six, the eye is particularly engaged. These stand circular-wise, and are the only ones in which the circular figure can be discovered. At the distance of four paces from this circle, is the trunk of a stone, nearly three feet above the surface, whose diameter measures about three feet.

The opinion of the country is, that the first stone I have described being one entire solid stone, was erected by human hands. Concerning these stones, we have two traditions. One is, that there was a battle fought between Biry, or Berry, and Maddoc, two potent lords; and that Maddoc erected these monuments to perpetuate his victory.

The other tradition is, that two Lords had a battle on this spot of ground, and that, though the conqueror is forgotten, the name of the vanquished was Maddoc, and that the slain were all buried in a common adjoining to this, hence called Deadbury common: Yet I could perceive no tumuli there.”
Thus writes a Gentleman from Barnstaple in 1751.

[.. Another correspondent] writes “On the north-side of the parish of East-Down, is an estate which, though now inclosed, still bears the name of Maddoc’s-Down. On this place stands a remarkably large stone of the spar kind – in the midst of a plain, about twelve feet above ground, and of a size too large ever to have been fixed there by art. At the distance of some yards, are several other stone, lying flat – which they call the Gyants’ Quoits.”

From Volume 1 of Richard Polwhele’s ‘Historical Views of Devonshire’ (1793).
books.google.co.uk/books?id=Rm9bAAAAQAAJ&pg=PA63

When at the Longstone or Mote-stone which gave its name to Mottistone, in the Isle of Wight, the other day [the writer] was told by an inhabitant of the locality that the two stones were said to have been thrown there from St. Catherine’s Down (seven miles away as the crow flies), the larger one by a giant and the smaller by the Devil; and that the giant had to stoop to throw his stone because it was so heavy.

From the Hampshire Antiquary and Naturalist (v1, 1891, p136).
biodiversitylibrary.org/item/72513#page/148/mode/1up

[An] interesting derivation is suggested by local tradition, which was mentioned to me many years ago by an intelligent neighbouring farmer. (The late Mr. Wm. Charlton of Rushy Law, which is the next farm to Pitland Hills eastward. His father lived to the great age of 102 years. Both were well-versed in the folk-lore of the district. Pickland Hills is still the more common local pronunciation.)

He informed me that his “fore-elders” called the place not Pitland, but ”Pictland or Pickland” Hills, and that the ancient people, the Picts, or “Picks,” as he preferred to pronounce the word, had a settlement here, and in working for iron and coal in the shallow pits on the moor first used the implements which our miners still call “picks,” thus named after the people who introduced them.

It is noteworthy that the cairns scattered over our wild Northumbrian uplands, as at High Shield Green previously described in this paper, and on those of the Scottish Borders, are often associated with that fierce race of invaders from the north, whose name and deeds became a terror to the Romanised Britons of the Lower Isthmus, and probably for long afterwards.

“On the moors of Northumberland, such heaps are pointed out as places where a Pict’s apron-string had broken, as he was carrying a load of stones to some of his superhuman erections.” (Rambles in Northumberland p104.)

archive.org/stream/archaeologiaaeli12sociuoft#page/248/mode/1up

From the ‘Recent Explorations’ article linked to below.

The remains of the chapel are on the valley side below Castle Dyke.

A legend exists of Lidwell, Lithewell, or Lady-Well under Haldon, not far from Dawlish, that a monk resorted to the practices of a highwayman to gain means to enjoy the luxuries of the table. He assumed nightly the garb of a wayfarer, and trudged along the roads, demanding “Your money or your life” of well-dressed and wealthy travellers.

He would decoy women to his chapel, and after robbing them, would throw them into a disused well. Hence the name of this place. After the suppression of the chapel this well was found to contain a large number of human bones, which it is affirmed on examination were those of women and young children. The shadowy forms of women are frequently seen hovering over the spot, while the wailing cries of children fill the air.

S. Hewett.

....

Lidwell Chapel is a ruin situated under the brow of Haldon, not far from Dawlish, in which, in 1881, the Holy Well long lost sight of and supposed in recent times to have been outside the building, was discovered, in exact accordance with the old story, to be within the walls and close to the altar.

The late Rev. R.H.D. Barham, in 1882, conducted the members of the Teign Naturalists’ Field Club to the ruins and pointed out the well. It is to be seen at the north-east corner of the chancel [...] He remarked that about the beginning of the present century an attempt was said to have been made to explore this receptacle, as it was thought to be, of the murderer’s booty but after descending a considerable distance the adventurers were driven back, so they declared, by evil spirits.

According to another tradition the well is of unfathomable depth, passing under the Teign, and at length finds issue in Kent’s Cavern, where articles dropped down the opening at Haldon, have re-appeared.

P.F.S.A.

From ‘On Devonshire Folklore’ at archive.org/stream/reportandtransa00artgoog#page/n86/mode/1up
‘Report and Transactions of the Devonshire Association’ v 26 (1894).

I’m afraid another slightly-off location, it seems to be next to the church though ( cholm.siteiscentral.com/torry/2-06/ ) .

My wife had inquiries to make concerning occupants of her relative’s household, and in one case an incident was related to us which seems worth recounting here, as showing how ancient superstition in connection with remarkable stones still lingers in a secluded district.

With regard to this incident, it is first necessary that I should refer to the Glenveigh evictions, which were carried out with great harshness fifty years ago, and which at that time made the neighbourhood of Gartan notorious. The evictions were the work of a new proprietor, Mr Adair, who had come from the South of Ireland with every desire to be fair to the peasantry, but with whom he quarrelled as to the exclusive right of sporting over his new posession. Mr Adair by these evictions had become the aversion of all the neighbourhood.

Reverting now to the retainer of the Gartan household, at first no reply was given to my wife’s inquiry, and then with bated breath the reply came, “Oh, she had a dreadful death! She was engaged in washing, and fell into a boiling cauldron, from which she could not be got out alive.” But the awful thing about her death was, that the very morning it occurred she had been heard to be bargaining with a man to go on her account for a payment of £5 to Tory Island, off the Donegal coast, where there is a stone which, if it could be turned, and the name of Mr Adair repeated over it, would have been sure to bring about his death within a year. [..] It would have been interesting if we could have visited Tory Island to have seen this baleful stone; but there was no direct communication from Gartan, and the island is a considerable distance from the mainland.

I mean actually I’ve no proof it’s this stone at all, but it certainly sounds like the sort of stone-turning belief you get with a ballaun stone, and this is the only ballaun marked on the Island. Unfortunately the National Monuments Service record (DG006-001002) doesn’t have any details yet.

From ‘Cup-Marked Stones’ by James Sconce, in v5 of the Transactions of the Edinburgh Field Naturalists and Microscopical Society (1902-7).
archive.org/stream/transactionsofed05edin#page/416

I regret to say the co-ordinates I’ve put in for this site probably aren’t very good as I’m having problems understanding the archaeology.ie mapbrowser (any advice welcomed, it’s record DG044-021002).

Anyway, this is a Cup-marked Stone with Folklore and thus cries out to be added anyway. There’s a photo of it here
a-wee-bit-of-ireland.com/eire_2007/gartan_06.html
where you can see it stained with coins (you have been warned).

I have spoken of Gartan as being held on very reliable records to have been the birthplace of St Columba, and I may further mention that a great celebration was held there in 1897, on the 1400th anniversary of his death, similar to that which, it may be remembered, was held at the same time at Iona.

The family of the saint occupied a princely position, and for four generations, since St Patrick himself had converted and baptised the great-great-grandfather of the saint, the family had been Christian. Their permanent abode or fort was about ten miles from Gartan. But at Gartan there is the “natal stone” as it is called, which is said to be the actual spot where St Columba was born. His mother, the Princess Ethne, so tradition says, had been brought here for the birth.

This stone, to my surprise when I visited it, I found to be at one end covered with cup marks. Whatever these marks mean or were made for, there seems to be little doubt that they were connected with some pagan rite or practice; and the interest attached to this particular stone to my mind is that a Christian family still held it in so much veneration, probably for good luck, as to have brought the lady to it from her own home at such a critical time.

The size of the stone is about eight feet long by six feet broad and one and a half feet thick, fairly flat, and slightly raised from the ground around it. It bears no trace of any building, either permanent or temporary, having ever been raised over it. Its situation is on a slightly elevated ridge of cultivated land, from which there is a good lookout all round. I saw no other stones like it in the immediate vicinity.

Besides this stone being held in reverence as the actual spot of St Columba’s birth, a curious belief is attached to it, that whoever sleeps on it will never know home-sickness; and many a man starting for America is said to have tried the remedy. May this be a reverential reflection on the grace obtained by St Columba, who was able to transfer his affection from the land of his birth in pious devotion to the land of his adoption?

From ‘Cup-Marked Stones’ by James Sconce, in v5 of the Transactions of the Edinburgh Field Naturalists and Microscopical Society (1902-7).
archive.org/stream/transactionsofed05edin#page/418

Drewyn Gawr made Caer Drewyn in Deyrnion, the other side of the river from Corwen. And to his sweetheart he made that Caer, to milk her cows within it.

From ‘The Giants of Wales and their Dwellings’ by Sion Dafydd Rhys, c.1600. Gawr = a giant (because you’d need to be a giant to build something like Caer Drewyn. Maybe they were even giant cows?). The 1917 translation by Hugh Owen is at the Celtic Literature Collective here:
maryjones.us/ctexts/giants_wales.html

From ‘The Giants of Wales and their Dwellings’ by Sion Dafydd Rhys, c.1600.

In the land of Merioneth in the parish of Dolgelly in the commote of Talybont, is a mountain that is called Cader Idris. And about the foot of this large hill are several lakes. Large and high is the mountain, and though so high, and so though difficult to cross over, yet (so they say) if a stick be thrown into any of those waters, you will find that piece of wood in the other lake on the opposite side of this mountain. And as it is not easy to believe that it can go over the top of a mountain as high as this, it is supposed that there is some cave or hollow from one lake to the other under the mountain, so that a thing that is in one lake can be moved to the other.

And on the highest crown of this mountain is a bed-shaped form, great in length and width, built of slabs fixed around it. And this is called the Bed of Idris, though it is more likely that it is the grave in which Idris was buried in ages past. And it is said that whoever lies and sleeps on that bed, one of two things will happen to him – either he will be a poet of the best kind, or go entirely demented.

And from one of the lakes that is under the mountain runs a large river. And when a very dry summer happens there is a lack of water to grind the mills built on the bank of that river. So it was frequently necessary to release the water from the lake. And (so they say) no water was ever released from that lake without at once there being some storm and downpour of rain, and thunder and lightning, happening in the same spot.

And in this high mountain formerly lived a big giant, and he was called Idris Gawr. And in this same parish is a mountain called Moel Yscydion, the abode of a great giant called Yscydion Gawr. And not far from Moel Yscydion in the parish of Llanfachreth is a hill called Moel Ophrom, where formerly lived Ophrom Gawr. And in the parish of Llanelltyd is another hill called Moel Ysbryn, because Ysbryn Gawr had his dwelling there. And all these giants were of enormous size, and in the time of Idris Gawr, and Idris was king and chief over them.

Edited from the 1917 translation by Hugh Owen at the Celtic Literature Collective, here:
maryjones.us/ctexts/giants_wales.html

Llanrhaiadr-Yn-Mochnant.
Its parochial history and antiquities.
By Thomas W. Hancock.

Careg-y-Big; (the stone of contention, or the Bickering stone). – This stone is surrounded by curious traditions. The following remarks respecting it, from a MS note by the Rev. Edward Edwards, Rector of Llanymynech, have been kindly furnished us by the Rev. Robert Williams, of Llangadwaladr.

“1790. About 150 years ago, Llanrhaiadr-yn-Mochnant was remarkable for its ‘Careg-y-Big,’ a pyramidal stone pillar in the village. To ascend this pillar, and to say ‘Captain Care-y-Big,’ was a general challenge which was sure to end in mischief and bloodshed. These riots often happened on a Sunday evening, and the common enquiry on Monday was, as to how many were killed at Llanrhaiadr the evening before. Mr. Maurice of Penybont [Llanerchemrys], removed the stone and buried it in a deep pool near his own house. There is a tradition that he was drowned in that pool, and the country people believed that the misfortune was a punishment for removing Careg-y-Big.”

The stone was removed doubtless at the instance of the Rev. David Parry, the vicar of Llanrhaiadr, from 1675 to 1682. The poet Huw Morris, in the following stanzas addressed to the Rev. David Parry, alludes to this stone.

“Cas wyd, coeg wyd, cegiden – cweryl,
Careg big y gydben,
Cwynaw tolciaw – can talcen;
Codiad bai yw cadw dy ben.

Lle byddai’r ffraeau rhy ffrom – gwaith rhydost,
A gweithredoedd Sodom,
Duw o’i ras a wnae drosom,
Bwyntio sant i Bant y Siom.”

[Vile art thou, deceitful art thou, the elf – of quarrels,
The bickering-stone of struggles,
There are groans – the bruising of a hundred heads;
To preserve thee is to uphold sin.

Where there existed frays, very severe – shocking work,
And the deeds of Sodom,
God in his grace hath for us,
Appointed a devoted man, to this vale of discontent.] T.W. H.

Tradition says that Mr Maurice removed the stone with a team of oxen, to his residence at Penybont, and that upon its arrival there quite a grotesque scene took place among the horned and unhorned beasts of all kinds in the place. The evil genii accompanying the stone set the whole group in a ferment, and a furor possessed them; and they indulged in all sorts of wild and eccentric antics, each strove to possess the ‘captaincy’ of the stone, in imitation of the Llanrhaiadr frays. Gory fights among them were the result, so that the good gentleman was glad with all speed to remove the stone and cast it into the depths of the nearest pool in the river Tanat. Mr. Edwards describes the stone as ‘pyramidal’; ‘Big,’ verily has the meaning of ‘pointed’ or ‘pyramidal’, but it also means ‘spite,’ ‘bickering’ &c. Stones called ‘Careg-y-big’, are still found, and not unfrequently, in Wales. It is not certain what was the exact shape, or size of the stone. Some old people state that it was used as a horseblock; if so, it probably had an ancient history.

archive.org/stream/collectionshisto06powyuoft#page/320/mode/1up
From v19 of ‘Collections Historical and Archaeological relating to Montgomeryshire and its borders’ (1868).

Antiquities. -- There is a hill in the parish of Aboyne, called Mullach’s hill, in which there are a great number of cairns, said to be burial-places, after a great battle, in which one Mullach was killed.

As you’d expect really. From the first Statistical Account for Aboyne, of the 1790s. The second version likes to think Mullach was a Danish king or general, but calls it a ‘confused tradition’. Actually ‘Mullach’ seems to mean the hilltop in Gaelic...

In a note from a MS. of Mr. Rowlands, the author of Mona Antiqua, this stone is said, having long lost its virtue, to have been stolen within his memory. There was once a tradition also concerning it, that when a wish was made before it, if the wish was to come to pass, the person who expressed the wish could lift it up with ease; but, if not, then it became so heavy, that his utmost strength could not raise it. In the latter case, it required but little art to produce the effect unknown to the simple inquirer.

from ‘The Cambrian Popular Antiquities’ by Peter Roberts, 1815.
archive.org/stream/cambrianpopular00robegoog#page/n230

I’m not sure that makes sense. I admit I don’t know if it’s still there.

This rather strange conical hill had a defended enclosure built on it in the Iron Age. The battle of Crug Mawr was fought in the vicinity in 1136 (Welsh 1, Normans 0). It seems to be the location for the following story:

Crug Mawr, or Pen tychryd Mawr, is a mountain, or lofty hill, in Cardiganshire, situated in the vale of Ayeron, mentioned in Giraldus, where, he says,

“there is an open grave, which fits the length of any man lying in it, short or long.”

Hence rose the ancient tradition, that a powerful cawr, or giant, kept his post on this hill, who was endowed with the genius of the Ayeron vale. He had a lofty palace erected on the hill, and used occasionally to invite the neighbouring giants to a trial of strength on the top of it; at one of these meetings coits were proposed and introduced, and, after great efforts, the inhabitant of the spot won the day, by throwing his coit clear into the Irish shore, which ever after gave him the superiority over all other giants in Caredig land.

He then proceeds to explain the stories away in a manner that completely misses the point that they are stories, invoking mistranslations and concealed machinery. Tch.
From ‘The Cambrian Popular Antiquities’ by Peter Roberts, 1815.
archive.org/stream/cambrianpopular00robegoog#page/n238/

.. an account of St. Maddern’s Well in the parish of Penzance, Cornwall. From Camden. Ed. Gibson, p21, 22.

“Bishop Hall tells us (Mystery of Godliness), that a cripple, who for sixteen years together was forced to walk upon his hands, by reason of the sinews of his legs being contracted, was induced, by a dream, to wash in this well; which had so good effect, that himself saw him both able to walk, and to get his own maintenance. Two persons that had found the prescriptions of physicians altogether unprofitable, went to this well (according to the ancient custom), on Corpus Christi eve, and laying a small offering on the altar, drank of the water, and lay upon the ground all night, in the morning took a good draught more, and each of them carried away some of the water in a bottle. Within three weeks they found the effect of it; and (their strength increasing by degrees) were able to move themselves upon crutches. Next year they took the same course, after which they were able to go up and down by the help of a staff. At length one of them, being a fisherman, was, and, if he be alive is, still able to follow that business. The other was a soldier under Sir William Godolphin, and died in the service of King Charles I.

After this the well was superstitiously frequented, so that the rector of the neighbouring parish was forced to reprove several of his parishioners for it. But accidentaly meeting a woman coming from it with a bottle in her hand, and being troubled with cholical pains, desired to drink of it, and found himself cured of that distemper.

The instances are too near our own time, and too well attested, to fall under the suspicion of bare traditions, or legendary fables: and, being so very remarkable, may well claim a place her. Only, ‘tis worth our observation, that the last of them destroys the miracle; for, if he was cured upon accidentally tasting it, then the ceremonies of offering, lying on the ground, &c., contributed nothing; and so the virtue of the water claims the whole remedy.”

I suspect, that the patients who are said to have lain on the ground, did so under the altar of the church; as it was the custom in other cases of a similar kind. Borlase says, the water is simply pure, without any mineral impregnation, and rises through a stratum of grey moor-stone gravel. He adds,

“Hither also, on much less justifiable errands (than to cure pains in the limbs), come the uneasy, impatient, and superstitious; and by dropping pins, or pebbles, into the water, and by shaking the ground round the spring, so as to raise bubbles from the bottom, at a certain time of the year, moon, and day, endeavour to settle such doubts and inquiries will not let the idle and anxious rest.”

Oh I think Mr Cameron would like this well very much. He’d like the way the Cured Cripples went back to gainful employment. Don’t tell him about it though or he’ll probably privatise the damn thing.

This is from ‘The Cambrian Popular Antiquities’ by Peter Roberts, 1815.
archive.org/stream/cambrianpopular00robegoog#page/n272/

... Magdalen Hill, or down, on which a fair is held on the second of August, being the feast of St. Mary Magdalen, old style. On the hill, and within a furlong of the fair ground, stood, in antient times, the Hospital of St. Mary Magdalen, founded towards the close of the twelfth century, by Richard de Toclyve, Bishop of Winchester; and, to show the connexion of the establishment and the fair, it is only necessary to add, that the master of this charity, which still exists, though “curtailed in its fair proportions,” possesses certain rights in respect to it, but which are not now asserted.

Notes and Essays, archaeological, historical and topographical, relating to the counties of Hants and Wilts (1851) by Henry Moody.
books.google.co.uk/books?id=i-MMAAAAYAAJ&pg=PA30

About four miles east from Tavistock, and close by the road which leads from that town to Moreton-Hampstead, are several Circular arrangements and rows of stones, the origin of which is unknown. The tradition prevails, that they were collected and disposed in particular forms at a time when a dreadful plague raged at Tavistock, and that the inhabitants resorted to this place for provisions. The farmers bringing their marketable commodities, and placing them on certain stones, retired to a distance, when the purchasers took the goods, and left money in their place.

From ‘The Beauties of England and Wales’ volume IV, 1803.
books.google.co.uk/books?id=7IlCAAAAYAAJ&pg=PA229

On the top of a hill to the west of Llangadfan, there are the remains of a very large carn not less than sixty yards in circumference. It now consists chiefly of small round stones, the larger evidently having been carried away by some of the farmers. The name of the place is Pen Cad Cymry, the head battle of the Welsh; and the tradition in the neighbourhood respecting these remains is that there was a church there at one time. This tradition may have originated from the circumstance that it was at one time a place of interment.

He also mentions Garneddwen (white) and Garnedd las (blue) cairns that are not far away, and a great number of smaller barrows. Rather than head, I think ‘Pen’ refers to the bare mountain top?
From ‘History of the Parish of Llangadfan’ by the Rev. Griffith Edwards, in ‘Collections historical & archaeological relating to Montgomeryshire, Volume 2‘
books.google.co.uk/books?id=tS4LAAAAYAAJ&pg=PA441

Well, I’m sure this story must relate to the landmarks round here, but I’m not sure exactly which is what. I can’t see the stone on Coflein either – I wonder if it’s still about.

There is an erect stone, of the class called Maen hir by antiquaries, on a field near Llymysten (see drawing). There is no inscription on it. It has been broken, and there are large fragments lying around. Judging from the diameter of the fragment now standing, its original height would not exceed nine or ten feet.

The tradition in the neighbourhood respecting the stone is, that it was thrown there by a giant from the top of a hill called Gogerddan, more than a mile distant. This giant, and another, his neighbour, who dwelt on the top of a hill called Esgair, near Llymysten, fell out, and had recourse to hostilities in a way worthy of giants, by throwing huge masses of rocks to each other, from the tops of the hills upon which they dwelt. The giant on the top of Esgair threw an immense stone to his antagonist, called Maen llwyd, which is yet remembered by many of the inhabitants, lying in a field near the turnpike road below Garthbeibio Church, and it is said that marks of the giant’s fingers were plainly seen on it, shewing with what force he had grasped it. The stone has now been unfortunately broken up and used to erect a wall, and the truth of this assertion cannot be brought to the test by those who doubt it. Both these giants seem, however, to have over-rated their strength, as the stones fell short of the mark in each case, and lay harmless on the plain at a distance from the hills to which they had been directed. Another large stone, thrown, as the tradition is, from the top of a hill on the other side of the valley by a giant, lies now in a hollow on the mountain near a place called Pren Croes.

From ‘History of the Parish of Llangadfan’ by the Rev. Griffith Edwards, in ‘Collections historical & archaeological relating to Montgomeryshire, Volume 2‘
books.google.co.uk/books?id=tS4LAAAAYAAJ&pg=PA440

I learnt (12th Sept., 1884) another tradition of hidden treasures. At the Bury Ditches, a very large entrenched camp some five miles from Clun, there is buried a ‘stean’ (an earthen pan, see Word-Book) of gold belonging to the fairies. A clue of golden wire is attached to it, which will lead the seeker to the spot. My informant remembered hearing the story as a child, 1839-1845, and wanting to search for the end of the clue when gathering wimberries there.

From volume 3 of Charlotte Burne’s ‘Shropshire Folk-lore’ (1886).

The summer festivities of the county came to an end on the last Sunday in August with the Titterstone Wake, held on the most southerly of our beautiful hills [..]

Mr. Thomas Powell, to whom this book is indebted for many notes on South Shropshire customs, tells me that when he ascended the hill on the Wake-Sunday of 1861, he and his boy-companions, in obedience to custom, seated themselves one by one in the Giant’s Chair, and there sang ‘some rustic lines,’ which unfortunately he cannot now remember. This ceremony is not mentioned in the account given by an old carpenter, Richard Jones of Ashford, now over seventy, who attended the wake many times up to 1846, at which date he says it was fast declining. He, however, adds some interesting particulars, which show us how full of peculiar traditional observances these old hill-feast must have been ‘once upon a time.‘

The young men, he says, assembled on the hill by the Forked Pole, still standing as a guide-post for travellers, and there the young women met them. ‘Fine stand-up handsome wenches they were, and well-dressed too, nothing like’em now; but ye wouldna know ‘em the next day with a bag of coal strapped on their backs.’ (For in those days the coal from the Clee Hill pits was carried down the hill on women’s shoulders!) Well, the two companies met, and walked together in procession to a long ‘alley’ called ‘Tea-kettle Alley,’ walled on each side with blocks of mortarless ‘Dhu stone,’ the dark basaltic rock quarried on the Titterstone Clee. In this alley, – built, I presume, to give shelter to the picnickers, – they found the old women and married women making tea, for which a beautiful spring close by supplied the water, and also watercresses to add to the provisions they had brought, and to which they all ‘did duty’ at once.

Then the games began – kiss in the ring, racing and jumping for hats or shoes or neckties, wrestling, boxing, and so forth: to the inevitable accompaniment of beer sold on the hill. Often no work was done that week, but the whole time till Saturday night was spent in ‘keeping up’ the wake.

From ‘Shropshire Folk-Lore’ v2 by C. S. Burne (1885).
archive.org/stream/shropshirefolkl00jackgoog#page/n211/

Though no tradition exists of the erection of a pole or tree on the Wrekin on ‘Wrekin May Sunday,’ yet in Shropshire [it] is chosen as the scene of a May festival. ‘Wrekin Wakes,’ as the assemblage is commonly called, take place on the first Sunday in May, and in the beginning of the century were the most numerously attended of any of our hill-wakes, held as they were in the midst of the most populous part of Shropshire.

‘The top of the old hill,’ writes a correspondent of Byegones, ‘was covered with a multitude of pleasure-seekers, with ale-booth, ginger-bread-standings, gaming-tables, swing-boats, merry-go-rounds, three-stickes-a-penny, and all the etceteras of an old English fair.’ But the characteristic feature of the Wrekin Wakes, was the yearly battle between the colliers and the countrymen for the possession of the hill. An old villager, who had taken part in these frays, assured our authority that his side had always been victorious, because, if worsted early in the day, they sent messengers to the surrounding villages for reinforcements, and renewed the battle with increased numbers. Sometimes, when parties were evenly balanced, the Wellington men would turn the scale by allying themselves with one side or the other, after the manner of the Irish Members of the House of Commons’ but even they, so said the old countryman, generally preferred to help the country party. The fighting was really fierce: serious and even fatal injuries were sometimes received, and the disorderly scenes at last reached such a pitch, that when the Cludde family of Orleton bought up the manorial rights, etc. over the first portion of the hill, they determined to put down the wake by force. Accordingly they employed a party of constables, gamekeepers and so forth, to clear the hill of visitors on one particular Wake Sunday, and since then the wake has been done away with; but great numbers of holiday-makers ascend the Wrekin on ‘Wrekin May Sunday’ even now, and a good many on the following Sunday also.

At what date the Wake was summarily put down, I cannot say. A correspondent of Hone (Every-Day Book, ii. 599), writing at Wellington, in February, 1826, speaks of it as then held ‘on the Sunday after May-day, and three successive Sundays, to drink a health to “all friends round the Wrekin”; and adds, that ‘its celebration has of late been very properly discouraged by the magistracy, and is going deservedly to decay’; but says nothing of the forcible clearances made by the proprietors of the hill.

From C.S. Burne’s ‘Shropshire Folk-Lore’ v2 (1885).
archive.org/stream/shropshirefolkl00jackgoog#page/n208/

Perhaps it was rather as the octave of Whit Sunday than as an independent festival, that Trinity Sunday was chosen for the celebration of ‘Caradoc Wakes,’ one of those ancient hill-feasts which form a marked characteristic of Shropshire folk-custom. The Caradoc – in the folk-speech the ‘Querdoc’ – is the grandest of the beautiful Stretton Hills, rising to a height of 1600 feet above the sea-level, and commanding a glorious distant view north, east, and south.

Standing one day at the upper end of the Stretton Valley, in full view of the peak of the Caradoc, I was told that it was the abode of an imprisoned fire-demon, and that when a solitary cloud rests on the summit of the hill, there may be seen the hand of the captive monster, struggling to get free. My informant had received this strange tradition from her grandfather, who, like herself, was a native of the spot.

The Trinity Sunday Wake, held upon it, was one of the great events of the year in that neighbourhood. William Homes, wheelwright [..] gave me a vivid description of it, September 8th, 1884. It was held, he said, on the level ring at the top of the hill, which is surrounded by the battery for the cannon [it is a British entrenched camp!]. There ‘standings’ were erected for the sale of refreshments, and ‘a barrel o’ drink,’ or probably several, was tapped. Old women went in and out among the crowd hawking baskets of gingerbread, and the unfailing spring on the hill-top supplied water for the tea-kettles.

Games there were in plenty; foot-races for the young men; rolling cakes down the steep side of the hill, ‘and who could get ‘em, had ‘em;’ rough jokes and horse play at times. He remembered, when quite a boy, being penned into the dark cavern called King Caractus’s [sic] Hole, by some elder lads, who kept him there for fun till they were tired out. Then there were fiddlers and plenty of dancing, but the special feature of the ‘Querdoc Wakes,’ which attracted the young men from far and near, was the wrestling for a pair of huge leathern gloves for hedging or harvest-work, which were the prize of the best man- a prize for which my old friend, now in his seventy-eighth year, had often contended, and the struggle for which gave rise to much excitement, and now and then to the exchange of a few blows, when a worsted combatant would not quietly submit to be laid on his back.

And all this on Trinity Sunday, while ‘the good church bells are loudly ringing down [in the vale] below’! ‘And when was it done away with?’ I asked another ancient sage, James Coles of Leebotwood. ‘Oh, it died out on itself,’ he said: ‘It had ought to a bin banished lung afore it was.’ But down to the present time parties of young people may be met on the evening of Trinity Sunday returning from the Caradoc, where they have been spending the day on the hill in remembrance of the old custom.

P352 in volume 2 of C.S. Burne’s ‘Shropshire Folk-Lore’ (1885)
archive.org/stream/shropshirefolkl00jackgoog#page/n196/
In volume 1 (p94) she mentions that the cave is ‘on the steepest face of the Caradoc’ and was where ‘the King hid from his enemies after his defeat’.

Hesba Stretton (writing Oct. 18th, 1879) tells us of the ‘old custom, now quite gone, of ascending the Wrekin on Easter Sunday, to see the sun rise. He was expected to rise dancing,’ but one is not prepared to find the wonder innocently credited even now, as seems really to be the case no far from the foot of the venerable hill. The Rev. R.H.Cobbold [..], writes as follows, 13th October, 1879: ‘In the district called Hockley, in the parish of Broseley*, a woman whose maiden name was Evans, wife of Rowland Lloyd, a labourer, said she had heard of the thing but did not believe it true, “till,” she said, “on Easter morning last, I got up early, and then I saw the sun dance, and dance, and dance, three times, and I called to my husband and said, ‘Rowland, Rowland, get up and see the sun dance! I used,’ she said, ‘not to believe it, but now I can never doubt more.’ The neighbours agreed with her that the sun did dance on Easter morning, and some of them had seen it.‘

This is what happens when you look at the sun. From ‘Shropshire Folk-lore’ by C. S. Burne, volume 2 (1885).
archive.org/stream/shropshirefolkl00jackgoog#page/n178/
*Broseley isn’t hugely far from the Wrekin.

Every year on Palm Sunday crowds of people were wont to ascend Pontesford Hill ‘to look for the Golden Arrow,’ and within the memory of the older people of the district a regular ‘wake’ or merry-making was carried on there, with games and dancing and drinking. Even as late as the year 1855, or thereabouts, whole families, old and young together, were in the habit of ascending the hill on Palm Sunday as a matter of course, and even now a good many young people make this yearly pilgrimage: but of late years the practice has been confined to the wilder spirits of the neighbourhood, and has been little countenanced by the more repectable sort. Mrs. R-- of Castle Pulverbatch tells me (September 12th, 1884) that she never allowed her daughters to join in it, but that two of her sons did so on Palm Sunday last past.

When she first came to live in the neighbourhood in 1846, it was a great annual picnic. Every household was occupied beforehand in baking cakes and packing up kettles and crockery in preparation for ‘going palming,’ as it was called. It was said that there was a sort of emulation to be the first to gather a ‘palm’ or spray from the ancient ‘haunted yew-tree,’ the only one of its kind which grows on the hill, for the lucky gatherer of the first palm would ‘come in no misfortune like other folk’ throughout the coming year, whatever he might do or wherever he might go, provided he kept his palm safely.

The next proceeding was to race down the hill to the Lyde Hole, where a little brooklet which winds down a lovely narrow glen on the eastern side of the hill, suddenly turns and falls into a basin-like hollow at the foot of steep walls of rock, forming a deep circular pool, of which ‘folk suen to say as there was no bottom to it, but now they washen the ship [=sheep] there.’ Whoever could run at full speed from the top of the hill down the steep sides of the Hole (a physical impossibility, or nearly so), and dip the fourth finger of his right [left?] hand into the water, would be certain to marry the first person of the opposite sex whom he or she happened to meet. ‘You could not choose but that one must be your fate.‘

What the Golden Arrow is, the search for which is the professed object of the Wake, or how it came there, none of the folk can tell. Though many very old people have been questioned on the subject for the purposes of the present work, little has been elicited beyond a hazy idea that it was dropped by some great one in days gone by, and never found. ‘But,’ said Mrs. R--, ‘whenever it is found, some great estate will change hands, for it will never be found till the right heir comes, who is to find it.’ She thought the estate was that of Condover, of which so many similar traditions are rife, but on this point she would not speak positively, though she reminded me that the Squires of Condover were formerly Lords of the Manor of Pontesbury.

The only other person who knew any tradition on the subject was an elderly man, post-master at the neighbouring village of Minsterley (now dead), who declared in 1873-4, that a good fairy in those days gone by ordained the search for the Golden Arrow as the condition on which she would undo some unknown injury, curse, or spell, inflicted by a fiend or demon. But to be successful, the quest must be undertaken at midnight on Palm Sunday by a young maiden under twenty [twenty-one?], the seventh daughter of a seventh son.

From Shropshire Folk-Lore, by C.S. Burne, volume 2 (1885).
archive.org/stream/shropshirefolkl00jackgoog#page/n175

A little to the north-west of the tower are six rude stones or pillars placed on the summit of an eminence, in a circular order, forming an area of ten yards diameter. The largest is about eight feet high. They are known as the Duddo Stones, and some learned archaeologists have set them down as Druidical; but the local tradition is that they were placed where they stand in commemoration of a victory gained at Grindon, in the year 1558, by the Earl of Northumberland and his brother Sir Henry Percy, over a plundering and burning party of Scottish horse, accompanied, as Ridpath tells us, by some foot, who were either Frenchmen or trained and commanded by French officers, and who were driven in disorder across the Tweed. The accompanying sketch of the stones, showing their appearance in 1836, was published in Richardson’s “Table Book,” vol. iv., 1844.

From ‘North-Country Lore and Legend’ in the Monthly Chronicle for May 1869. Were there six at the time? You can’t see from the drawing (above).

It is, I understand, still believed in the neighbourhood that, every year on the longest night, all the ghosts (including, I suppose, spiritual beings of all kinds, and perhaps witches) of Shropshire “and the counties beyond,” assemble round the highest of the Stiperstones to choose their king.

From ‘Collectanea Archaeologica’ – Beriah Botfield’s 1860 address called ‘Shropshire, its History and Antiquities’.
books.google.co.uk/books?id=hjbnAAAAMAAJ&pg=PA60

At the extremity of the roof of the north transept of Ludlow church is placed an iron arrow. According to a popular legend still repeated, Robin Hood stood on the larger mound or low at the Old Field, and aimed this arrow at the weathercock of the church, but, falling a few yards short of its intended destination, it has ever since remained in the place where it fixed itself.

The arrow simply indicates that this was the Fletcher’s chancel; but the legend, made to explain its position, after the use of arrows was laid aside and forgotten, was probably engrafted on the tradition of a former legend which connected the low in the Old Field with the larger low which formerly occupied the site of the present church*; the one was visible from the other.

Also from ‘The History of Ludlow’, p29.
archive.org/stream/historyludlowan02wriggoog#page/n43

*what on earth? No, this is getting folklore speculation a Bad Name I’m afraid. Even I have to admit Mr Wright went too far this time. In his defence I suppose he is thinking there must have been a Low in Lud’low’, which he explains here:
themodernantiquarian.com/post/56264/shropshire.html

In Beowulf the treasures of ancient days which the dragon guarded, are represented as lying in a chamber or cave underneath the low. An old historian of the fourteenth century, Thomas of Walsingham, has preserved in his chronicle a curious legend relating to the village of Bromfield, near Ludlow.

In the year 1344, he says, a certain Saracen physician came to Earl Warren to ask permission to kill a serpent or dragon, which had its den at Bromfield, and was committing great ravages in the Earl’s lands on the borders of Wales. The Earl consented, and the dragon was overcome by the incantations of the Arab; but certain words which he had dropped led to the belief that large treasure lay hid in the dragon’s den. Some men of Herefordshire, hearing of this, went by night, at the instigation of a Lombard named Peter Picard, to dig for the gold; and they had just reached it, when the retainers of the Earl of Warren, having discovered what was going on, fell suddenly upon them, and threw them into prison. The treasure, which the Earl took possession of, is said by Walsingham to have been great. It is very probable that this treasure was a deposit of Roman coins, &c. found in the neighbourhood of the Old Field; and one of the barrows or lows there may have been the reputed dragon’s home.

A bit speculative but seems reasonable enough? From p28 of ‘The history of Ludlow and its neighbourhood’ by Thomas Wright (1852).
archive.org/stream/historyludlowan02wriggoog#page/n42

-stop press, folklore confusion shocker- Ms Burne says it’s the wrong place. Though it’s probably better to leave this here as I bet it’s repeated in countless books. And anyway, who knows.

The story of the Dragon of Bromfield .. does not refer to Bromfield in Shropshire at all, as Mr Wright supposed, but to Bromfield in Denbighshire, formerly in the Marches of Wales, which came into the hands of John Earl Warren in the 13th century; whereas Bromfield belonged to the canons of Bromfield, and after them to the monks of Bromfield Priory, from (at least) the time of the Confessor onwards.

archive.org/stream/shropshirefolkl01jackgoog#page/n282/mode/2up

The Heritage Gateway’s record says that the fort here at The Berth is rather exotic and unusual. It was originally set on two islands in a mere – these days the enclosures are more lumps in a wet meadow, though. They were connected to each other by a causeway of gravel, with another linking them to the surrounding land. Although originally Iron Age, the Berth was used into Roman times and a Roman bronze ‘cauldron’ was found near the causeway to the land. Berth Pool is on the south side of the mounds – I suppose it must be the remnant of the original mere.

The site first chosen for Baschurch Church was on the top of the Berth Hill. This is a smooth, grassy mound outside the village, crowned by the entrenchments of a British camp, and approached by an ancient causeway leading through marshy meadows beside a deep dark sheet of water called the Berth Pool, of which ‘three cart-ropes’ will not reach the bottom. But as long as the building was carried on on the Berth Hill, however hard the men worked during the day, ‘something,’ they knew not what, always pulled their work down again during the night, and threw the stones into the Berth Pool, until at last the disheartened people tried a fresh site, and then their work was allowed to remain.

Elsewhere in the same book (p68):

The same mysterious ‘something’ which interfered with the building on the height also threw the bells intended for it into the Berth Pool. Horses were brought and fastened to them, but were quite powerless to draw them out. Then oxen were tried with better success; but just as the bells were coming to the surface of the water, one of the men employed in the work let slip an oath, on which they fell back, crying, ‘No! never!’ And they lie at the bottom of the pool to this day.

From volume 1 of ‘Shropshire Folk-lore: A Sheaf of Gleanings’ by G F Jackson and C S Burne (1883).
archive.org/stream/shropshirefolkl00burngoog#page/n30/mode/2up

Monte Musine seems to have a bit of an eerie reputation? This (fairly random, I admit) page
itineraridelmistero.com/natura/il-monte-Musine.htm
talks of giants, werewolves, witches, ghosts – it’s got the lot.
Perhaps there have always been tales of ‘lights in the sky’ and now these have a new interpretation as alien UFOs. There is prehistoric rock art here, which interestingly has also been woven into the ufo myths. According to this snippet
books.google.co.uk/books?id=F7pZfLUoHJIC&lpg=PA323
flying-saucery scratchings were found in the 1970s, no doubt inspired by the genuine cup marks (some of which you can see at
rupestre.net/archiv/ar7.htm and in wido_piemonte’s photos of course.

This is interesting because it sounds like the original version of EquinoxBoy’s tale – his has been updated with the combustion engine to make it more contemporary?

No tradition.. exists of any [stones] having been removed, or that the group has ever been otherwise than it is at present. A certain superstitious respect still attaches to the spot, and may even have had something to do with the preservation of these curious relics, for gossip still records how upon one occasion some farmer, more zealous in the cause of agriculture than archaeology, attempted to remove one of them, and that the work was immediately arrested by a violent storm of thunder and lightning.

From ‘On Certain “Markings” on the Druid Circle in Holywood’ by Dr Dickson, in Series 1 volume 3 of the Dumfries and Galloway Natural History and Antiquarian Society.
dgnhas.org.uk/transonline/SerI-Vol3.pdf
With regard to the Certain Markings (proposed cup-marks), a later expedition felt they were merely natural.
dgnhas.org.uk/transonline/SerII-Vol4.pdf

Alfred Watkins heard a local tale that the large stone or ‘Sacrificial Stone’ was said to be “the door of the Giant’s Cave thrown down.”

The Giant’s Cave is Clutter’s Cave. AKA the Hermit’s Cave. How many names do these places need?

Mr Watkins got a friend to recline on the stone as though he was about to be sacrificed and took a photo. He was seemingly convinced it was Suitable as it fitted the human body just right. He mentions someone else’s ideas who’d been observing the sun at the Midsummer, and thought that that would have been just the moment to do the deed.

Naturally he spotted a number of his leys around this area.

He published the idea and photo in ‘The Old Straight Track’, but this link (’Republications’) is more interesting because it comes with his own handwriting:
cantab.net/users/michael.behrend/repubs/watkins_misc/pages/giants_cave.html

Much of this [ruin of the walls] was due to to excavations which were made in the huts some fifty years ago, by people of the neighbourhood. An old woman of Llithfain dreamt that a copper cauldron full of gold was buried in Tre’r Ceiri. This unfortunate dream did more harm to the cytiau of Tre’r Ceiri than many centuries of natural causes of decay.

From an article in Archaeologia Cambrensis, Jan 1904: ‘An Exploration of some of the cytiau in Tre’r Ceiri’ by the Rev. S Baring-Gould and Robert Burnard. It includes some illustrations of their finds.
archive.org/stream/archaeologiacam05powegoog#page/n9/mode/2up

Possibly a bit mean – how much digging would you have done before you got disillusioned? Surely not much. But it does suggest that Treasure would not be seen as an unreasonable thing to find here, and also that dreams are not an unreasonable way of receiving believable information about such Hidden Things.

‘Some of the younger and stronger-limbed’ members of the Cumberland and Westmoreland Antiquarian and Archaeological Society took an excursion to this fort in the 1880s. I think they were a bit disappointed by its misleading name as well.

Just at the bottom of the hill is a bridge over the Eden. It sounds quite an unusual spot with its own lore:

Stenkrith Bridge .. spans the Eden at a point where the stream has worn the rock into numerous narrow channels, some of them of considerable depth. In places the agency of the stream, carrying with it fragments of harder stone, has scooped the rocks out into perfectly circular basins, well-known as pot-holes. When the river is low, as was the case on this occasion, visitors can walk among and around these basins, which are filled with the clearest of water, and form the most tempting-looking baths that it is possible to imagine.

At one place the whole stream of the river is contracted within so small a space between two mighty pieces of rock that a lady can step from one side to the other with the greatest ease. Some years ago the “pass” was still narrower, for it was then possible for a man’s hand to span the whole body of the stream, until some drunken boor resolved that his coarse fist should be the last hand to do such a feat, and brought a sledge hammer to work.

A glance was next given to the “demon-haunted cave” in the neighbourhood, an opening in the rock where can be heard rumblings which simple folks in days not very long past regarded as very “uncanny” sounds indeed, but which the realistic intelligence of the present day unhesitatingly ascribes to the movement of streams in the bowels of the earth.

It all sounds very fascinating to me. And don’t tell me your average Croglam Castle dweller wouldn’t have thought the same. From volume 5 of the Transactions (1881), available online at the Internet Archive.
archive.org/stream/transactionscum07collgoog#page/n105

Llangybi.

... there is a famous well, known as “Ffynon wen” (Holy Well): It was formerly supposed to possess healing powers. Its waters gush forth in abundance, and show no signs of abating even in the driest seasons.

Within a quarter-of-a-mile there used to be a large stone called “Llech Cybi” which the invalids who came to this well for healing were required to touch.

From ‘Notes and Queries’ in v1 of the Transactions of the Cardiganshire Antiquarian Society (1910-14).
archive.org/stream/antiqucardigan01carduoft#page/48

Under the Cardiganshire Llangybi Edward Lhuyd wrote: “On Ascension Eve they (the people) resort to Ffynnon Wen; after they have washed themselves, they go to Llech Gybi, that is an arrow’s flight from the well. There they put the sick under the Llech, where, if the sick sleeps, it is an infallible sign of recovery; if not, of death.”

From ‘The Lives of the British Saints, v2’ by S. Baring Gould and John Fisher (1908).
books.google.co.uk/books?id=uE3pXSdZd5gC&pg=PA213

Leabhar na Feinne (1872) by J F Campbell.

This book of Gaelic ballads includes one called ‘Laoidh an Truisealaich’ . It is “an imaginary conversation with a great standing Stone” and “Murray, the reciter, asserts that it was the custom in his youth to recite this ‘Lay of the Truiseal Stone,’ near the butt of Lewis in Shawbost.”

It’s quite long so if your Gaelic is up to it you may read it at
archive.org/stream/leabharnafeinne00campgoog#page/n239/mode/1up

It is locally known as “The Cave,” but the term “Picts’ House,” often given to such structures, is also applied to it.

..

A tradition which a family of that neighbourhood has preserved for the past two centuries, has, in the opinion of the present writer, a distinct bearing upon the “cave” and its builders.

This is that, a long time ago, a community of “clever” little people, known as “the merry elfins,” inhabited a “tounie,” or village, close to the place. The present inheritors of the tradition assume that they lived above ground, and do not connect them at all with this “cave,” of whose existence they were unaware until a comparatively recent date. But, in view of a mass of folk-lore ascribing to such “little people” an underground life, the presumption is that the “tounie” was nothing else than the “cave”. This theme cannot be enlarged upon here; but a study of the traditions relating to the inhabitants of those subterranean houses will make the identification clearer.

It may be added that the term “Picts’ house” applied to the Pitcur souterrain, is in agreement with the inherited belief, so widespread in Scotland, that the Picts were a people of immense bodily strength, although of small stature.

From ‘Pitcur and its merry elfins’ by David Macritchie, in Reliquary and Illustrated Archaeologist for 1897, p217. He’s ever hopeful, and I know the feeling exactly, of wanting to pin some local tale on a nearby megalithic spot.

The name, “Five-Wells,” has arisen from the circumstance that in the vicinity, five fields so abut upon a spring that each has a drinking-place or “well supplied therefrom. The name is also applied to a farmhouse near.

From John Ward’s ‘Five-Wells Tumulus, Derbyshire’ in the Reliquary and Illustrated Archaeologist (1901). He describes his excavations of the site.

I would therefore beg to call attention to what is perhaps the oldest stone in this island about which there is documentary evidence extending over thirteen centuries, and which is still standing in the identical spot where it was erected centuries earlier still.

[..] the Book of Chad [..] has the words behet hirmain guidauc = as far as the long stone of Gwyddog or Gwyddawg. Mr. Gwenogvryn Evans considers that this entry must have been made before A.D. 840..

There’s also mention of the ‘byrfaen’ or short stone, also on the boundary of Carmarthenshire and Cardiganshire and nearby. But this is supposed to be lying ‘among a heap of debris, namely, in three pieces’.

WH Davey adds, ‘My son has asked in the immediate neighbourhood about the stones, but could get no further particulars except that it is supposed that they are on the site of a battle which took place in that locality.‘

However it seems that the short stone was never that short, because there’s also a quote from Nicholson’s 1813 ‘Cambrian Travellers’ Guide, in which it was said to be ‘15 feet long and 4 in width and thickness’.

From ‘A boundary stone with a good record’ in Illustrated Archaeologist v1 (1893).