Rhiannon

A strange little anecdote, from “’A description of the parioches of Essie and Rhynie’ (circa A.D. M.DCC.XXX.)” (ie 1730):

The Top of Noth is a very remarkable hill here. It has a fountain on the very summit, without any current from it on the outside; but if a taper rod be put into the vein of the fountain, it comes forth, in twenty-four hours space, at a large issue at the foot of the hill, called Coul’s Burn, after being carried three miles under ground by the force of the current.
Here are monuments in several places, thought to be the remains of heathen superstition, though many other fabulous stories are told of them. [Though not at the moment, because this is where the anecdote cruelly finishes, sadly]

I wonder if this hillside Pooh-sticks is a local story, or sort of a Geologists’ story? Quite strange whichever way.
On page 178 of Antiquities of the Shires of Aberdeen and Banff. Second Volume.’ 1847. Readable online at Google Books.

This is from WD Simpson’s ‘Notes on Lulach’s Stone, Kildrummy’ (which is actually another stone of the same name):

On Green Hill, in the parish of Tough (O.S. 6 inches, Aberdeenshire, sheet Ixiii.), is a similar monolith, also called Lulach’s or Luath’s Stone; and the tradition attached to each pillar is that it marks the place where Lulach, stepson of Macbeth, was overtaken and killed after his father’s defeat and death at Lumphanan (15th August 1057). The historical facts about Lulach the Fatuous are briefly as follows. He was a son of Macbeth’s wife, Gruoch, by her previous husband, Gillacomgain, of the ancient house of Moravia, and himself a cousin of Macbeth. After Macbeth was defeated and killed by Malcolm Canmore, Lulach carried on his stepfather’s claims, but himself was killed at Essie, in Strathbogie, on 17th March 1058, and, like his stepfather, was buried in lona. Two sources aver that Lulach was killed by Malcolm in battle, but another says that he died by treachery.

From the April 12 1926 Proceedings of the Scottish Archaeological Society. Online here via the ADS:
ads.ahds.ac.uk/catalogue/adsdata/PSAS_2002/pdf/vol_060/60_273_280.pdf

..when the wind is easterly, the devil amuses himself with chasing Tregagle three times round Dosmary pool. After the third chevy, the wily giant makes off with all speed to Roche Rock, and thrusts his huge head into the chapel window, much as the ostrich is said to bury his neck.. but with this essential difference in the result, that the latter is still caught by his huntsman; while with the giant, the safety of his head guarantees the safety of his whole body, and Beelzebub has nothing left for it but to whistle off his pack and return bootless from the chase.

Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine. p21 in vol24 Jul-Dec, 1828.

Always beware of local people spinning a yarn. Could this be useful advice to visitors during the circus surrounding Silbury’s latest excavations?

[Around 1776 when the miners were excavating Silbury] a correspondent of the Salisbury Journal, with the intention of throwing ridicule on the undertaking, narrated [..] that some years previously a poor boy who was carrying a pitcher of milk along the high road at that spot, fell down and broke the vessel. A tailor, who lived at Avebury close by, met the boy lamenting his case just at the same moment that a carriage appeared in sight. He, therefore, directed him to shout out lustily in order to excite the compassion of the passengers, and advancing up to the coach himself, observed that the poor lad had but too much reason for his lamentations, for the urn which he had broken had but just before been exhumed by his father, and as a piece of antiquity was of such rare value, that Dr. Davis of Devizes would no doubt have given a guinea for it. This declaration so wrought upon the curiosity of the travellers, that after due examination of the fractured vessel, and a consultation as to the possibility of uniting the fragments, they agreed to give a crown for the article, and drove off with their prize. The tailor then gave the boy one shilling, and appropriated four to himself.

From ‘A History Military and Municipal of the Town of Malborough. James Waylen. 1854. p406.

Their name, as the Devil’s Arrows, seems to have originated from the following story, which we had related to us by an hoary headed individual living in Boroughbridge, when soliciting information as to their history:

“There lived a very pious old man {a Druid should we imagine} who was reckoned an excellent cultivator of the soil. However, during each season at the time his crops had come to maturity they were woefully pillaged by his surrounding neighbours; so that at this, he being provokingly grieved*, the Devil appeared, telling the old man if he would only recant and throw away his holiness he should never more be disturbed in his mind, or have whatever he grew stolen or demolished.

The old man, like Eve in the garden, yielded to temptation, and at once obeyed the impulse of Satan for the benefit of worldly gain. So when the old man’s crops were again being pillaged, the Devil threw from the infernal regions some ponderous arrows, which so frightened the plunderers by shaking the earth that never more was he harrassed in that way. Hence the name of the ‘Devil’s Arrows.’”

Another individual told me that it was believed by some that the stones sprung up one night in the very places they now occupy.

These opinions seem to be somewhat firmly fixed in the minds of the narrators. A superstition once imbibed is in many instances difficult to eradicate. However, we neither believe nor wish others to believe that they either sprung up in a single night, or were shot from a bow of Satan.

From the notes and queries section of ‘The Geologist’ for October 1860. Online at Google Books.

*one can only presume ‘being provokingly grieved’ means he was swearing a lot at this point, which attracted the Devil’s attention.

Some folklore, etymology, and an early C19th event/kneesup. According to the RCAHMS record, the cairn probably has prehistoric roots even if it has been added to since. At 45m diameter and an impressive 6m in height, it is one of the largest cairns in Scotland.

For miles [the river Clyde] winds along round the base of Tinto or Tintock hill..; on the summit of which is a large cairn, by tradition reported to have been thus erected by those who, as a penance, were compelled by the priests of St. John’s kirk, in Lanark, to carry so many stones to the top of the hill.

p266 of ‘The Church of England Magazine’ vol 17, 1844.

Tinto, it has often been said, signifies the hill of fire; but whether it was so called from the fires which were kindled on it at Beltane, or in the beginning of May, in honour of some tutelary deity, or on whatever other occasion, I do not presume to determine.

New Statistical Account of Scotland, v6 (1845) p518.

Teinne in the Galic means fire; and toich land, ground, territory, or tom a hill.

‘The Gentle Shepherd’, Allan Ramsey, 1808 v2 p480.

In the shire of Lanark is a remarkable insulated mountain, called Tinto..; upon which the return of peace was lately celebrated by an immense bonfire made of 50 loads of coal, and a large quantity of wood, at which several sheep were roasted whole. The fire was kindled at nine o’clock at night, and had a beautiful effect; as the Cairn of Tinto is seen from 17 counties, and from the Atlantic and German Oceans.

(this must refer to the end of the 1807-1814 Peninsular War?) From The Gentleman’s Magazine and Historical Chronicle. Jan-June, 1814, v84. p693.
All books found online at Google Books.

As FourWinds says in the associated forum posts – Yellowmead is surely all about the Tor that overlooks the site: Sheeps Tor (don’t blame me for the lack of apostrophe, blame the OS). And up on Sheeps Tor, naturally, there are pixies.

Amid [the ‘vast clatter of boulders’ on the side on which the village lies] is a narrow opening between two upright rocks, which will admit the visitor, though not without a little difficulty, into a small grotto, celebrated in local legend, and known as the Pixies’ Cave.

On entering the cleft we shall find that the passage, which is only a few feet in length, turns abruptly to the left, and we shall also have to descend a little, as the floor of the cave is several feet lower than the rock at the entrance. This turning leads immediately into the cave which we shall find to be a small square apartment capable of containing several persons, but scarcely high enough to permit us to stand upright. On our left as we enter is a rude stone seat, and in the furthest corner a low narrow passage, extending for some little distance, is discoverable.

According to a note in Polwhele’s Devon, this cavern became the retreat durng the Civil Wars of one of the Elford family, who here successfully hid himself from Cromwell’s soldiers, and it is related that he beguiled the time by painting on the rocky walls of the cavern, traces of the pictures remaining long afterwards, hut nothing of the sort is discoverable now [..]

The cave is rather difficult to find, and one might pass and re-pass the crevice which forms its opening, without ever dreaming that such a place existed there, so narrow does the entrance look. The clatter is a perfect wilderness of boulders, and stretches around to the eastern side of the tor, where the rocks rise perpendicularly, forming a precipice of great height.

As we stand at the entrance to the grotto we may look down upon the little village of Sheepstor and its church with sturdy granite tower, nestling in the sheltered combe, while the grey tor rises high behind us, exposed to all the buffetings of the wild moorland storm.

From chapter 1 of ‘Tales of the Dartmoor Pixies‘
by William Crossing [1890]. Online in full at the Sacred Texts Archive.
sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/tdp/tdp02.htm

When someone from RCAHMS visited in 1998, they found a low circle of stones here, 15m in diameter. It’s been recorded as a cairn, or possible stone circle.

The name.. signifies “The Mountain of the Wild Boar,” and the Cantire Highlanders tell the following legend in explanation of the name. Once upon a time, when this mountain was partly clothed with great forests, there lived among them a wild boar of enormous size and strength. He ravaged the country, wandering about for prey, and killing every man and beast that he met. For miles off he could be heard whetting his terrible tusks against the stately oaks, and people were afraid to pass that way, and had to drive their cattle to other pastures. The great hero Fingal came to Cantire, and was told of the wild boar’s ravages. Among his brave men there was a mighty hunter named Diarmid, of whom Fingal was jealous and wished to be rid; so to him was committed the dangerous task to slay the boar. Diarmid accepted the task with joy, and set out for the mountain. He entered the oak forest that then grew at its base, and soon got upon the track of the boar. He followed it through the brushwood and the thick hazels that gave to Caledonia its name, and presently heard the boar crunching the bones of a bullock. Diarmid sprang upon him with his spear, but it broke off short in the wild boar’s chest, and the beast, maddened with pain and savage anger, rushed upon him. Diarmid stept lightly aside, and the boar, in his blind fury, dashed his tusk against the hard trunk of an oak. Diarmid was instantly upon him with his sword, and plunged it in his bristly body up to the very hilt, and the boar rolled over and died.

Well, this is all very excitingly written but it is rather long, so I feel obliged to summarise the rest (which can be read in full on Google Books).
Diarmid got some help to drag the boar back to Fingal’s tent, and people started getting stones for the fire to cook it on, and cracking open the mead or whatever, for a bit of celebration. But Fingal wasn’t very happy to see Diarmid back, and one of his muttering supporters suggested there was something a bit funny about Diarmid, and that he was pretty invincible apart from one spot on him.. hmm.. so Fingal called Diarmid over and got him to measure the huge boar by treading across it barefoot.. and then back the other way – but now the stiff bristles of the boar pointed up and pierced his heel; and Diarmid bled to death.

In Glencreggan, by Cuthbert Bede (1861 – volume 2, p7 and onwards).
Perhaps the circle of stones could be where they cooked the boar. Though I expect people’s appetites were a bit spoilt by Diarmid’s demise.

In the churchyard stands a short square stone pillar, with the outline of a St John’s or Maltese cross rudely carved on it. From this as from a centre was measured in ancient times the sanctuary of Torphichen, which gave, at least, temporary protection to any person accused of crimes less than capital. Its limits were marked by four stones, each bearing the St John’s Cross, erected as near as might be on the cardinal points, east, west, north and south, each a Scotch mile from the central stone in the churchyard adjoining the preceptory. They all still occupy their original positions.

And do they too have cup marks? From p49 of the New Statistical Account of Scotland, v2, 1845.

You may think this stone looks like a mushroom. But actually it’s only the stone on top that counts – the rest of it is a plinth, made from the same type of stone in the early 19th century. RCAHMS sticks its neck out no further than to say the monument is classed as a ‘stone’. But one with a pedigree you have to agree – it’s been the source of Clackmannan’s name since at least the 13th century. [posts combined – TMA Ed.]

In Chamber’s Gazetteer of Scotland [1832?] we find the following interesting account of the origin of this name:- “At the east side of the quondam prison of Clackmannanshire lies a huge-shaped blue stone, which, having been broken into three pieces, is now bound with iron. This is a sort of burgal palladium or charter-stone, like the Clachnacudden of Inverness, the privileges of the town being supposed to depend, in some mysterious wy, upon its existence, on which account it is looked upon by the inhabitants with a high degree of veneration.

Its legendary history is curious. When King Robert Bruce was residing in Clackmannan tower, and before there was a town attached to that regal mansion, he happened, in passing one day near this way on a journey, to stop awhile at the stone, and, on going away, left his glove upon it. Not discovering his loss till he had proceeded about half-a-mile towards the south, he desired his servant to go back to the clack (for King Robert seems to have usually spoken his native Carrick Gaelic), and bring his mannan, or glove. The servant said, ‘If ye’ll just look about ye here, I’ll be back wi’t directly,’ and accordingly soon returned with the missing article.

From this trivial circumstance arose the name of the town which was subsequently reared about the stone, as also that of a farm at which the King stopped, about half-a-mile from the south, on the way to Kincardine, which took its name from what the servant said, namely, ‘Look about ye,’ and is so called to this day.”

A likely story, quoted in ‘Geography Classified’ by Edwin Adams, from 1863.

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.