Rhiannon

Weather folklore for the hill:

The following is a Worcestershire saying:
“When Bredon Hill puts on his hat,
Ye men of the vale, beware of that.”

p292 in Choice Notes from Notes and Queries – Folklore (1859).

This is clearly nothing to do with this or the hanging stone? but I thought the piece worth recording, as it is about lost nearby stones with a name.

“In the lowland vale separating the northern and southern tracts of downs, there was entire, in 1773, near Woodborough, an immense block, popularly called the kissing stone. This, I learned with regret, has been broken and dispersed for various purposes, more than twenty years past; and now not a fragment remains upon the spot. It was probably of the sarsen kind, so commonly broken on the Marlborough downs for building, &c. in default of other stone, which is very scarce also about Woodborough. It has, perhaps been thus made use of; and in truth, I observed some neighbouring cottages partly constructed with sarsen fragments. To deem it a mass destined for Stonehenge, does not, I think, appear extravagant; it seems, certainly, to have been brought thus far into the vale, from off the northern tract of downs. Although the mysterious ceremonies of ancient times had long ceased around this stone, yet its modern name implies the celebration of other rites that succeeded them, and that should have preserved it from destruction, had not the unrelenting possessor remained deaf to the entreaties of the villagers.

About a mile and a half, south-west from the site where this stone lay, at a small arched footbridge over a rivulet, is a spot called Limber-stone; where I noticed some large pieces of sarsen-stone, lying beside the stream. To found a conjecture on this, and the name only, may be thought unwarrantable; therefore, I will only observe, without laying any stress on it, that by allowing a small latitude of signification to the word limber, the present local name might possibly proceed from the ancient existence here, of what is called a Rocking-stone; but, to this idea, I have not learnt any tradition that can give support.

From p235 of The Miscellaneous Tracts of the Late William Withering. Vol 1. 1822. Online at Google Books.

From p41 of ‘Scenes and Legends of the North of Scotland, Or The Traditional History of Cromarty’ by Hugh Miller [1835].

Towards [the] eastern boundary [of the moor], and about six miles from the town of Cromarty, there is a huge heap of stones, which from time immemorial has been known to the people of the place as The Grey Cairn, a name equally descriptive of other lesser cairns in its vicinity, but which with the aid of the definitive article serves to distinguish it. [..]

About fifteen years ago a Cromarty fisherman was returning from Inverness by a road which for several miles skirts the upper edge of the moor, and passes within a few yards of the cairn. Night overtook him ere he had half completed his journey [..] As he approached the cairn, a noise [other than his footsteps, reached his ears, one which] his profession had made him well acquainted, = that of waves breaking against a rock. The nearest shore was fully three miles distant, the nearest cliff more than five, and yet he could hear wave after wave striking as if against a precipice, then dashing upwards, and anon descending, as distinctly as ever hehad done when passing in his boat beneath the promontories of Cromarty. On coming up to the cairn, his astonishment was converted into terror. Instead of the brown heath, with here and there a fir seedling springing out of it, he saw a wide tempestuous sea stretching before him, with the large pile of stones frowning over it, like one of the Hebrides during the gales of the Equinox. The pile appeared half enveloped in cloud and spray, and two large vessels, with all their sheets spread to the wind, were sailing round it.

The writer of these chapters had the good fortune to witness at this cairn a scene which, without owing any thing to the supernatural, almost equalled the one described. He was, like the fisherman, returning from Inverness to Cromarty in a clear frosty night of December. There was no moon, but the whole sky towards the north was glowing with the Aurora Borealis, which, shooting from the horizon to the the central heavens, in flames tinged with all the hues of the rainbow, threw so strong a light, that he could have counted every tree of the wood, and every tumulus of the moor. There is a long hollow morass which runs parallel to the road for nearly a mile; it was covered this evening by a dense fleece of vapour raised by the frost, and which, without ascending, was rolling over the moor before a light breeze. It had reached the cairn, and the detached clump of seedlings which springs up at its base. = The seedlings rising out of the vapour appeared like a fleet of ships, with their sails drooping against their masts, on a sea where there were neither tides nor winds; – the cairn, grey with the moss and lichens of forgotten ages, towered over it like an island of that sea.

How very strange. To be read, with additional flowery language, at Google Books.

(From a very interesting Manuscript Volume of Tours by Thomas Stringer, Esq. M.D. of Shrewsbury)
On the lands of Ballymac Scanlan, in the county of Louth, is a large Rath, and on it a great stone, having in the centre a cross with four smaller ones. About thirty yards from the Rath is an entrance into a cave, running under the Rath, but it has not been explored. Tradition calls this the tomb of McScanlan. At the same place are three great pillars supporting a ponderous impost: this was the pensile monument of the northerns. It was called the Giant’s Load, being brought altogether from a neighbouring mountain, by a Giant, according to tradition.

Museum Europæum; or, Select antiquities ... of nature and art, in Europe; compiled by C. Hulbert (1825). Online at Google Books.

Apparently not just for fertility:

On Craigmaddie Muir stnads the Cromlech, or Sepulchral-Trilith, popularly called “The Auld Wives’ Lift,” and ivested with some curious traditions and customs. It consists of three huge stones, two of which support the third. The uppermost is an enormous block of basalt, measuring rather more than 18 feet in length, by 11 feet in breadth and 7 in depth. A small triangular space occurs between the stones, and through this, tradition recommends all visitors to pass, desirous not to be childless, and to be safe from the pranks of the Evil One.

In ‘Glasgow Past and Present’ by James Pagan (1856). Online at Google Books.

This turf-covered stoney mound is, according to the scheduled monument record, very likely to be a Bronze age cairn. But Mr Miller has other ideas:

On the hill above Whitekirk, a cairn of stones marks the grave of two persons who were slain at a conventicle, by a party from the Bass. This was probably the meeting held here in May 1678, which was dispersed by Charles Maitland, deputy governor, when James Learmont and his brother, with one Temple, (from Dunbar) were pannelled, 11th September 1678, for the murder of John Hay, who came with the King’s forces.

From p99 of James Miller’s 1824 ‘St. Baldred of the Bass: A Pictish Legend.’ Online at Google Books.

Proceeding from the circle at Coldrum, towards the east, we observed single stones, of the same kind and of colossal magnitude, scattered over the fields for some distance; and it is the tradition of the peasantry that a continuous line of such stones ran from Coldrum direct along the valley to the hill of Kits Coty House, a distance of between five and six miles. Mr Larking and myself traced these stones in the line through a great portion of the distance, and their existence probably gave rise to the tradition. I was informed that they had even been found in the bed of the river, where there seems to have been an ancient ford. It must be remarked that these stones, or boulders, belong to the geological formation of the district, and many of them may have obtained their present position by natural causes: but from a tolerably careful examination, we were led to believe that there had once existed an avenue of stones connecting the cemetry around Kits Coty House with that in the parish of Addington – together they seem to have formed the grand necropolis of the Belgian settlers in this part of the island.

Wanderings of an Antiquary: chiefly upon the traces of the Romans in Britain By Thomas Wright (1854). Online at Google books.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As old as Pendle-hill.

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

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

To all friends round the Wrekin.

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

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

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

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

More, on the strange indentations that Kammer mentions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is online at Google Books.

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

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

The quietly amusing Mr Thomas gives his insight on the stones’ folklore:

In vol. iii. of Arch. Scot. there is a rude woodcut from a drawing, and extracts from a description of the stones of Stenness, communicated by the Rev. Dr. Henry, in 1784. In the drawing we have an amatory couple exchanging vows at the shrine of Odin, but unfortunately the Odin stone is drawn standing upon the east instead of the west side of the Stenness Ring.

There are eight standing and two fallen stones in the Stenness Ring, which forms an exact semi-circle, and the cromlech is removed from the north side to what is intended to be the centre. Upon the cromlech is a kneeling damsel supplicating for the power to do all that is wanted from her by her future lord, while he is standing by, and seems to be rather intoxicated, but whether from love or wine is not to be determined from the drawing.

I quote the following account, which I believe to be extremely exaggerated.
“There was a custom among the lower class of people in this country, which has entirely subsided within these twenty or thirty years, when a party had agreed to marry, it was usual to repair to the Temple of the Moon, where the woman, in presence of the man, fell down on her knees and prayed the god Woden (for such was the name of the god whom they addressed on this occasion) that he would enable her to perform all the promises and obligations she had made and was to make to the young man present; after which they both went to the Temple of the Sun, where the man prayed in like manner before the woman. Then they repaired from this to the stone north-east of the semi-circular range; and, the man being on the one side and the woman on the other, they took hold of each other’s right hand through the hole in it, and there swore to be constant and faithful to each other. This ceremony was held so very sacred in those times, that the person who dared to break the engagement made here was counted infamous, and excluded from society.” – p. 119.

In the description of the before-mentioned drawing, the Ring of Stenness is called “the semi-circular hof or temple of standing stones, dedicated to the moon, where the rights of Odin were also celebrated:” but my witty friend, Mr. Clouston, is of opinion that it was only the lunatics who worshipped here.

The Ring of Brogar is called “the Temple of the Sun:” unfortunately, the ring of Bukan, which was of course the Temple of the Stars, seems to have escaped notice, or we might have learned of some more ante-nuptial ceremonies performed therein.

Cheeky but no doubt true.

From ‘Account of some of the Celtic Antiquities of Orkney, including the Stones of Stenness, Tumuli, Picts-houses, &c., with Plans’ by F W L Thomas.

Chapter 13 in: Archaeologia, Or, Miscellaneous Tracts Relating to Antiquity By the Society of Antiquaries of London (1851).

This can be read online courtesy of Google Books.

The site of the Odin Stone* was pointed out to me by a man who had looked through it in his youth; it stood about one hundred and fifty yards to the northward of the Ring of Stenness, but it does not appear to have had any relation to that structure, though it is probable that it was erected at the same era. All that can now be known of it must be learnt from Barry’s or the Marchioness of Stafford’s drawings, for the unfortunate tenant of Barnhouse cleared it away.

The stone, which was of much the same shape as those still left, was remarkable from being pierced through by a hole at about five feet from the ground; the hole was not central but nearer to one side. Many traditions were connected with this stone, though with its name I believe them to have been imposed at a late period; for instance, it was said that a child passed through the hole when young would never shake with palsy in old age. Up to the time of its destruction, it was customary to leave some offering on visiting the stone, such as a piece of bread, or cheese, or a rag, or even a stone; but a still more romantic character was associated with this pillar, for it was considered that a promise made while the plighting parties grasped their hands through the hole was peculiarly sacred, and this rude column has no doubt often been a mute witness to “the soft music of a lover’s vow.”

*“At a little distance from the temple is a solitary stone about eight feet high, with a perforation through which contracting parties joined hands when they entered into any solemn engagement, which Odin was invoked to testify.” (Arch. Scot. vol. iii. p107.) This agrees with the description of Mr Leisk; but Barry’s plate would lead us to imagine that the height was at least double that given above.

From ‘Account of some of the Celtic Antiquities of Orkney, including the Stones of Stenness, Tumuli, Picts-houses, &c., with Plans’ by F W L Thomas.

Chapter 13 in: Archaeologia, Or, Miscellaneous Tracts Relating to Antiquity By the Society of Antiquaries of London (1851).

This can be read online courtesy of Google Books.

For what superstitious purpose this stone was used it is vain to conjecture. The only tradition connected therewith is that persons afflicted with the crick, or rheumatism, who crawl, or are drawn, through it, are cured by this operation. Hence it is called by the neighbouring villagers the “Crick-stone.”

On page 19 of “The Land’s End District: Its antiquities, natural history, natural phenomena and scenery” by Richard Edmonds (1862).
Online courtesy of Google Books.

I think this must be the right site for this story: (it needs to be near Boyle, Roscommon, and near the site of a mill near the ‘issue of the river from the lake’). Please correct me if not.

At a short distance to the north of this mill, on the right hand side of the road going towards the lake, and not far off it, stands one the largest cromlechs that I have seen in Ireland. The sloping upper stone is fifteen feet long by eleven broad; its greatest thickness two feet six inches, and its average thickness might perhaps be safely set down at eighteen inches. It is now supported by four upright stones, but, once, had a fifth. To this, the neighbouring miller, in an evil hour, took a fancy, judging it would make an admirable stone for his mill; and with much difficulty and labour he removed it from its place; but just as the operation was on the point of being completed, the stone, to the amazement and terror of the bystanders, flew into a thousand pieces; an occurence which was interpreted as a judgement upon the miller for his audacious violation of this sacred work of antiquity. The people still look upon the cromlechs with a degree of respect, if not veneration, althought they have no notion of their origin, or of the purposes to which they were destined.

p278 in ‘A Statistical Survey of the County of Roscommon’ by Isaac Weld (1832). You can read it courtesy of Google Books, here.

The Coflein record, to be fair, isn’t sure how old this stone is. It describes it as “an upright slab, 2.8m high by 1.7m by 0.5-0.8m” possibly on a mound.

I think it could well be the one mentioned here in on p186 of “Tales of the Cymry: with notes illustrative and explanatory” by James Motley (1848).

It is reported of a large stone near the end of the old canal, but on the left of the road from Neath to Brittonferry, that there is a charm, not yet discovered, which can compel it to speak, and for once to reveal the secret of its history: but that having once spoken it will be silent for ever.

Online at the Internet Archive.

Maen Cetti, on Cevn-y-bryn, in Gower, was, says ancient tradition, adored by the pagans; but Saint David split it with a sword, in proof that it was not sacred; and he commanded a well to spring from under it, which flowed accordingly. After this event, those who previously were infidels, became converted to the Christian faith. There is a church in the vicinity, called Llanddewi, where it is said that St. David was the rector, before he became consecrated a bishop; and it is the oldest church in Gower.

From ‘Iolo Manuscripts: A Selection of Ancient Welsh Manuscripts, in Prose and Verse’ by Taliesin Williams and completed by Rev. Thomas Price (1848).

online

The giant of Norman’s Law in Fife, known in legend as the Earl of Hell, is said to have hurled a boulder at the people of Dundee across the River Tay. The boulder fell short and crashed against the (Dundee) Law Hill where it still rests.

From an article for the Scotsman by Brendan O’Brien, online at heritage.scotsman.com/myths.cfm?id=1870532005

This comes from the Scottish Big Cat Trust at
bigcats.org/abc/sightings/1998/beastofnefife1.html
and was originally in the Dundee Evening Telegraph for September 8th 1998.

A North Fife man, who was out for a walk in woods near Luthrie on Monday night, reckons he may have caught a glimpse of the same black puma-like animal which was apparently spotted a few miles south in Letham at the weekend. The man, who asked not to be named, said he was strolling down a path near the west side of Norman’s Law at around 6.45 pm when he saw a ‘mysterious creature’ roaming through undergrowth around 20 yards in front of him.

He said, “At first I wasn’t that worried because you always hear noises from rabbits, foxes, deer and the like, but when I stopped for a minute to watch this mysterious animal more closely I quickly realised it was not the sort of thing you normally see in the area. It was long, black and sleek like a big cat – certainly with a feline posture – and looked to be something like a panther or a puma. I don’t think it saw me but I have to say I didn’t hang around for long after that to give it a chance. It is quite remote up there and with me being on my own, I didn’t want to find out if it had had its tea or not.”

The man, who regularly walks in the area, said he had doubts about what he had seen until he read Press reports about another sighting. At around 8.15 on Sunday morning a man out walking his dog apparently saw a similar creature prowling across playing fields in Letham.

Mary Stark who runs the Bow of Fife post office said the sighting of the big cat in Letham had been the “talk of the village” for the past few days. She said several people who attended a christening at Letham village hall on Sunday had also claimed to have seen the creature that morning.

Around 30 sightings have been reported at a number of locations in north east Fife over the past few years. Anyone who thinks they might have seen such an animal in the area recently is asked to contact divisional intelligence officer George Redpath at Cupar police station. He has been collating a file on the subject for many years and can be contacted on 01334 418700.

Traditionally Black Dogs are well known for haunting barrows – and why should modern Black Cats miss out on frequenting prehistoric spots?

Denbury Hill, or Denbury Down, has an encampment. There is also to be seen an ancient stone, with all the markings thereon, with which the Danes sharpened their weapons of war. Treasure is said to be hidden there, and these two rhymes are current:

“When Exeter was a furzey down,
Denbury was a borough town.”

“If Denbury Down was levelled fair,
Denbury could plough with a golden share.”

This information was taken from the Illustrated Western Weekly News, 5 August, 1911, p24, and quoted in Notes on English Folklore
J. B. Partridge
Folklore, Vol. 28, No. 3. (Sep. 30, 1917), pp. 311-315.

The main road from Padstow along the coast cuts through this ancient cemetery. It is interesting to note that this portion of the road has ever been dreaded by passengers at night as haunted.

From chapter 9 of ‘A Book of Folk-lore’ by Sabine Baring-Gould [1913], online at:
sacred-texts.com/neu/celt/bof/bof09.htm

Black Dogs. The Padfoot or phantom black dog is common enough in this county. His chief attribute seems to be the guardianship of graves. The retreat of Prince Charlie’s army through the Moorlands in 1745 left quite a crop of these spectres. At Swinscoe on the Leek-Ashbourne road three Jacobites were ambushed, and a phantom black dog guards their grave.

I’d like to make a bet the dog guards this barrow, as many of his canine cousins do elsewhere. The barrow’s not far from the road, and there’s no graveyard the soldiers could have been buried in.

According to the scheduled monument record on Magic, the barrow’s on the crest of a prominent ridge in the landscape, and is nearly 1.5m high. “Limited antiquarian investigation at the monument’s centre located a rock-cut grave containing a partly disturbed inhumation. A cremation, Romano-British pottery, a piece of iron and a flint were found above the rock-cut grave.”

From Notes on Staffordshire Folklore
W. P. Witcutt
Folklore, Vol. 53, No. 2. (Jun., 1942), pp. 126-127.

I suppose this isn’t the stone Baza’s taken a picture of? But maybe another Bulford stone to search out I suppose.

.. a stone formerly in the Avon near Bulford, in the bend just south-west of Watergate Farm (SU 16054330 [this is at the foot of a slope crowned by a long barrow]). This is less than a metre across, and its upper side has been cut to form a square socket, and to the slab is fixed an iron ring possibly for mooring a boat. It is in fact a slab of oolitic limestone and has nothing to do with Stonehenge, yet it has already gathered ‘megalithic’ folklore.

A farmer with his team of oxen is said to have tried without success to move it from the river (Long 1876, 75, note 2). ‘An observer’ wrote in the Salisbury Times (11 March 1910) that ‘several attempts have been made to drag the stone from the river. Forty, and some say sixty oxen were employed, but it was never even moved.’ Similar traditions occur at the Rollright Stones and many other megalithic sites in Britain.

The stone was mentioned in the poem by F. Bowman (1823), 5:
No kindred relics boasts the neighbouring soil,
Save one rude rock, that rests its time-worn side
On Avon’s bed, and curbs his struggling tide.

Scarcely compatible with the supposed immovability of this stone is another local belief that ‘whenever it is turned over it always rights itself again’ (Emslie 1915, 167).

When this stone was removed from the river ten or twelve years ago, the men allotted to the task were at first reluctant to have anything to do with it, believing that there was a curse on the stone. The latter is now in the garden of a house by Bulford Bridge (inf. Dr Isobel Smith and the Wessex Water Authority, Poole).

From The Legendary History and Folklore of Stonehenge
L. V. Grinsell
Folklore, Vol. 87, No. 1. (1976), pp. 5-20. The eminent Grinsell also reminds us in this article of another water bound stone at Figheldean, which Aubrey says was supposedly dropped on the way to Stonehenge* (Figheldean is a little further north, so curiously not really on the way at all).

Long’s work is ‘Stonehenge and its barrows’, and Emslie’s, ‘Scraps of Folklore’ in Folklore 26. Emslie has this to say:

Bulford Water Stone, near Amesbury, is a stone in the middle of the River Avon. On its north side is an iron ring, fixed in it, and which always lies upon it in a direction which is opposed to the current of the river. It has frequently been turned over so as to lie in the same direction as the current of the river, but has always returned to its original position by going against the current of the river. [collected 1896]

Here’s something a little earlier which I found in ‘The Beauties of Wiltshire’ by John Britton (1801):

About two miles north of Amesbury, on the banks of the Avon, is Bulford. Near this village are two large stones of the same kind as those at Stonehenge. One of them is situated in the middle of the river, and, as I am informed, has an iron ring fixed in it; but the waters being very high I could not see it.

The other is on the Downs, a little to the south-east of the village; and about a mile further up the valley is another, all evidently appertaining to the structure I have already described [i.e. Stonehenge]; but whether they were ever brought from the circle, or were left here on their passage, on whether they belonged to an avenue stationed between Stonehenge and Avebury, it is impossible to determine.

And a little more, on the stone that was in the water (this is from p229 of v1 of ‘Miscellaneous Tracts’ by William Withering – 1822). It’s from a letter by James Norris to Dr Withering, dated Feb9, 1798.

I was at Bulford again in August last, and conversed with the farmer who occupies the estate on which it lies; he assured me he had been upon it when a long drought had laid dry its surface, and that the ring is certainly of iron. But I found him inclined to invalidate the opinion of its antiquity, by relating a tradition, which I will here repeat: ‘it is said, that, formerly, a railing extended across the river at this place, to detain the fish: that the square cavitiy in the stone received one of the supporting posts: that another similar stone was once placed in the same river also, near the opposite bank, for the same use; and that the ring is of later date, and fixed only to attempt the removal of the block.’ Be this relation true or false, I cannot but think it improbable, at least, that so much needless trouble and expense should be incurred, when a post firmly fixed in the earth of each bank only, would have been fully adequate to the purpose. He says the nature of the stone is different from any of the three kinds at Stonehenge: that it is softer, and agrees with the productions of the Chilmark quarries, situated about fifteen miles south-west of Stonehenge and about twelve miles west of Sarum.

*From Bulford I went to Fighelden, and made many particular inquiries of aged and intelligent natives of the place concerning the stone said by Aubrey to lie in the river there. Their invariable reply was, ’ that none such was ever known to exist at Fighelden, or nearer than Bulford; where (added they) is to be seen one corresponding with the description.’ It is alsmost certain, then, I think, that the Bulford stone is the real object of that writer, who has fallen into a local error in the name, and in about three miles in the situation of the place.

There are lots of barrows up here. And there’s a bit of megalithic style folklore. But where is the stone?

A rock is set up at a four-crossroads on Gittisham Common. It is called the Witch’s Stone, for it is said that witches used to sacrifice babies on it. There is also said to be a treasure buried beneath it, and whenever it hears the church bells striking midnight, it descends to the River Sid to drink.

From p153 of The Folklore of Devon
Theo Brown
Folklore, Vol. 75, No. 3. (Autumn, 1964), pp. 145-160.

At Fermoy, the name given to a somewhat curious cromlech, “The Hag’s Bed,” interested me. I was at some trouble to learn the origin of the name, and fortunately our car-driver succeeded in finding an old man, who gave me the desired information..

“On yonder hill there lived, in days gone by, a giant and a giantess. They were called Shara and Sheela. One day Shara returned from his labours (wood-cutting) in the forest, and finding no dinner ready he was exceeding angry, and in his passion gave Sheela a severe wound with his axe on the shoulder. His passion was assuaged as soon as he saw the blood of his wife, and he carefully bound up the wound and nursed her for many weeks with great care.

Sheela did not, however, forgive Shara for the injury he had inflicted on her. She brooded on her wrong. Eventually she was so far recovered that Shara was able to leave her; and their stock of wood having fallen short, he proceeded to the forest for a fresh supply. Sheela watched her husband as he descended the hill, and, full of wrath, she seized her bed, and, as he was wading through the river, she flung it after him with a dreadful imprecation. The devil changed the bed into stone in its passage through the air. It fell on the giant, crushed him, and to this day he rests beneath the Hag’s Bed.

In the solitude which she had made she repented her crime, but she never forgave herself the sin. She sat on the hill-top, the melancholy monument of desolation, bewailing her husband’s loss, and the country around echoed with her lamentations. “Bad as Shara was, it is worse to be without him !” was her constant cry. Eventually she died of excess of grief her last words being, “Bad as Shara was, it is worse to be without him !”

“And,” said the old man, finishing his story, “whenever any trouble is coming upon Ireland, the voice of Sheela is heard upon the hill still repeating her melancholy lamentation.”

From “Popular Romances of the West of England” by Robert Hunt (1903 edition), online at the Sacred Texts Archive:
sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/prwe/prwe332.htm

St Piran has several stoney connections – for one, he travelled to Cornwall from Ireland on one.

On a boisterous day, a crowd of the lawless Irish assembled on the brow of a beetling cliff, with Piran in chains. By great labour they had rolled a huge millstone to the top of the hill, and Piran was chained to it. At a signal from one of the kings, the stone and the saint were rolled-to the edge of and suddenly over, the cliff intd the Atlantic. The winds were blowing tempestuously, the heavens were dark with clouds, and the waves white with crested foam. No sooner was Piran and the millstone launched into space, than the sun shone out brightly, casting the full lustre of its beams on the holy man, who sat tranquilly on the descending stone. The winds died away, and the waves became smooth as a mirror. The moment the millstone touched the water, hundreds were converted to Christianity who saw this miracle. St Piran floated on safely to Cornwall; he landed on the 5th of March on the sands which bear his name. He lived amongst the Cornish men until he attained the age of 206 years.

Another stoney story explains the origins of the black and white Cornish flag:

St Piran, or St Perran, leading his lonely life on the plains which now bear his name, devoted himself to the study of the objects which presented themselves to his notice. The good saint decorated the altar in his church with the choicest flowers, and his cell was adorned with the crystals which he could collect from the neighbouring rocks. In his wanderings on the sea-shore, St Perran could not but observe the numerous mineral, veins running through the slate-rocks forming the beautiful cliffs on this coast. Examples of every kind he collected; and on one occasion, when preparing his humble meal, a heavy black stone was employed to form a pan of the fireplace. The fire was more intense than usual, and a stream of beautiful white metal flowed out of the fire. Great was the joy of the saint; he perceived that God, in His goodness, had discovered to him something which would be useful to man.

From Robert Hunt’s “Popular Romances of the West of England”, now online at the excellent Sacred Texts Archive:
sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/prwe/index.htm

..there is another Trelleck tradition. If you ask your way to the three stones you will be answered, “The way to Harold’s Stones? Yes Miss,” and then directed. Specially will you be so answered if your informant is at all above the labouring class, and the information will be added that “Harold he did set them up because of a great battle he did win, and if you goes on, Miss, you’ll see the great mound where they did bury all the dead.”

The facts of that battle and that victory are real enough. The late Professor Freeman, in the second volume of his Norman Conquest, under the year 1063, quotes the chronicler Geraldus Cambrensis to this effect, that “Each scene of conflict was marked with a trophy of stone bearing the proud legend, ‘Here Harold conquered.’” It is quite possible that Earl Harold may have taken to himself stones obviously not of his own raising, though there is no trace of an inscription on any of the menhirs at Trelleck..

Oh whatever. You lost me once you’d made your snobby comment about the labouring classes, Ms Eyre. She goes on to debate at length and somewhat pointlessly the roots of the legend. From:
Folk-Lore of the Wye Valley
Margaret Eyre
Folklore, Vol. 16, No. 2. (Jun. 24, 1905), pp. 162-179.

“A dragon once lived on Bignor Hill, where ridges made by its coils can be seen.”
It doesn’t seem wholly unlikely that this folklore could refer to the enclosure, which is slightly along the ridge from Bignor Hill. The area also has many Bronze age barrows. Folklore from the Sussex County Magazine, III, 1929, p552, by F.J. Bulstrode.

Cwm Ferman seems to run between this hill fort and ‘Waun Twmpath’, which Coflein describes as a motte.

My attention was drawn to this valley by a man from whom I asked my way on top of Pembrey Mountain. After answering my question he volunteered the additional information that “Over there is Cwm Verman where the Little People lived.”
A week later when trying to find the way to Cwm Verman I asked two people where the “Little People” lived, and they replied, “Oh Bendith y Mammau (i.e. the Blessings of the Mothers) you mean.” To find the fairies described in both these ways in the same district is interesting because it is unusual.

The Little People of Cwm Verman
G. Arbour Stephens
Folklore, Vol. 50, No. 4. (Dec., 1939), pp. 385-386.

Like at many a megalithic monument, the stones of Stonehenge cannot be counted. Or at least, the poet Sir Philip Sidney couldn’t count them. He made mention of this in his ‘The 7 Wonders of England’, written pre-1581.

“Neere Wilton sweete, huge heapes of stones are found,
But so confusde that neither any eye
Can count them just, nor reason try,
What force brought them to so unlikely ground.”

Perhaps it was common knowledge and not just a personal problem with figures, since Alexander Craig mentions it in ‘To His Calidonian Mistris’ (published 1604):

“And when I spide those stones on Sarum plaine,
Which Merlin by his Magicke brought, some saine,
By night from farr I-erne to this land,
Where yet as oldest Monuments they stand:
And though they be but few for to behold,
Yet can they not (it is well knowne) be told.
Those I compared unto my plaints and cryes
Whose totall summe no numers can comprise.”

..a literary reference occurs in William Rowley’s The Birth of Merlin, a play published in 1662, but believed.. to have been staged forty or fifty years previously.

..and when you die,
I will erect a monument upon the verdant plains of Salisbury:
no king shall have so high a sepulchre,
with pendulous stones that I will hang by art,
Where neither lime nor mortar shall be used,
a dark enigma to thy memory,
for none shall have the power to number them.

That the tradition was well known is indicated by the fact that King Charles II spent October 7, 1651, ‘reckoning and rereckoning its stones in order to beguile the time’. Colonel Robert Phelips, who accompanied his sovereign, added, ‘the King’s Arithmetike gave the lye to that fabulous tale.

Celia Fiennes, travelling in about 1690, had no trouble, and ‘told them often, and bring their number to 91.‘

Gathered in
The ‘Countless Stones’: A Final Reckoning
S. P. Menefee
Folklore, Vol. 86, No. 3/4. (Autumn – Winter, 1975), pp. 146-166.

Perhaps Bryony’s tale comes originally from the version in ‘Sussex Local Legends’ by Jacqueline Simpson (Folklore, Vol. 84, No. 3). This contains a written version of that told by L.N. Candlin, in 1971, from her childhood recollections (c1915), and includes the same unusual word, ‘midriff’.

[Hilaire Belloc told the story] of how St Dunstan pulled the Devil’s nose with red-hot tongs at Mayfield, making this a sequel to the [Devil’s Dyke story below]. I have also recently heard a friend of mine associate the two tales, but in the reverse order; according to him, when the Devil felt the hot tongs at Mayfield, he leapt into the air and hurtled out to sea to cool his nose, kicking the Downs with his hoof as he passed overhead. The Dyke is the mark left by his kick. My informant thinks he learnt this unusual variant at Mayfield, not in the neighbourhood of the Dyke itself.

p210 of
Sussex Local Legends
Jacqueline Simpson
Folklore, Vol. 84, No. 3. (Autumn, 1973), pp. 206-223.