Rhiannon

In the townland of Carrickacleven there is a little garden and in it there is a rock shaped like a mouth. It is said that there is money under it, and an old woman minding it and there is to be a life lost at the getting of it.

In the same townland there is a house with five big stones and the one on top is said to bear the weight of six tons. A long time ago there were priests and ministers at it and they said there is an old chieftain buried there and all his riches with him in a crock coffin.

Some people came to it one night after they heard what was under it. They dug until they came to a flag that is over the chieftain and they could get no further. So no one ever went near it after that.

From the 1930s Schools Collection of folklore, now being transcribed at Duchas.ie. There is a photo and description in the 1972 Survey of the Megalithic Tombs of Ireland but I don’t know how it’s faring now.

In a field in Meeambee in the parish of [?], there is to be seen a cromlech. It is called locally Leabaidh Éirn.
There were four upright slabs, some of which are now fallen, topped by a huge oblong slab, many tons weight.
Near at hand there is a circular raised mound of earth enclosed by bushes called “The Fort” which his believed to be visited by the fairies. None of the bushes have been cut down, lest some dire misfortune should follow. A chieftain named Earn is popularly supposed to have lived in this district.

From an informant for the 1930s Schools Collection of folklore, now being transcribed at Duchas.ie.

The information via the Archaeology.ie mapviewer says that the huge chunky 3x3m, 60cm thick roof stone has subsided to the north, with one north sidestone and two sidestones and the septal-stone surviving on the south side. Also that there is a headstone 3m east of the tomb with a date of 1748 and an otherwise illegible inscription: this is reputedly made from the missing portal stone.

Old people believe that at regular times during the year the fairies hold important horse fairs. One special ‘fairy’ man near this village relates how he was ordered to get up in the middle of the night to change horses from Mount Mary near the town of Ballygo down to Rathcroghan near Tulsk.

Hundred of horses with small ‘mineen’ riders galloped down across the country in the moonlight November Eve.

The great grandfather of the present blacksmith had his instructions to be always ready on Halloween night to put on shoes on the little travellers’ horses.
One night he was dozing by the fire when a shout + tramp of horses wakened him. He was going to lift the horse’s hind foot, when he noticed the animal had only three feet. “I can’t shoe this horse” he said. “It’s all right we will help you” said a score of little riders. The work was done and away went the fairy host, galloping like the wind, on their way to Rathcroghan for the great horse fair.

From the 1930s ‘Schools Collection’ of folklore, now being digitised at Duchas.ie. It seems like another one of those half-told tales (the three footed horse) where you are supposed to be in the know already and instinctively understand what it means from all the other three-legged animal tales you know. I’ll have to work on it.

Elf Stones:- The following account is given by Michael Fitzsimons, age 75, Doon, Tierworker, Bailieboro.

Elf stones were supposed to fall out of the air with a shower of rain. They are a grayish white colour nearly like a sea-shell. If any of them fell on a cow she would get into a sickness called Paralysis. It was said that people would cure the cow of the sickness if they got nine of these elf-stones in a porringer or any other suitable vessel and go to a stream bordering two counties before the sun rises in the morning and get some of the river water in the vessel along with the elf-stones and bring them home and go round the sick cow three times.
While doing so keep praying some special prayers. Before very long the cow would be better.

A man named Philip Carry, Doon, Tierworker, Bailieboro, Co. Meath had two sets of Elf-stones and all the people round this locality used to go to Philip Carry’s for the elf stones when they had cows sick. Elf stones are kept at certain houses yet. The nine stones were in the Prophet Malcolmson’s house. Then a man named Andrew Clarke Lisnasanna, Kingscourt, Co. Cavan got them to make the cure and another named Connor Muldoon, Cordoy, Kingscourt got them from Clarke to make the cure and they remain in that house yet.

When they are given away to make the cure the man that gave them away could not take them back to keep, unless to make the cure or they would be no good. They are kept at some houses yet. It was a good cure for paralysis.

When cows were struck with those stones they were said to be “elf shot”. The hair would stand on them and they would be unable to move until the cure was made.

From the Schools’ Collection of folklore, made in the 1930s, and now being transcribed at Duchas.ie. Elf stones can also be interpreted as Neolithic arrow heads. But you never know.

There’s an article on this massive stone by Serge Cassen and colleagues in this month’s edition of the Cambridge Archaeological Journal (v28:2, 259-281 – ‘The ‘historiated’ Neolithic stele of Saint-Samson-sur-Rance’). Eight meters’-worth sticks out of the ground at 42 degrees, and the four sides are aligned to the points of the compass. It’s made of granite, the nearest source of which is 4km away.

The researchers recently used various lighting and 3D techniques to highlight the carvings on the stone, and conclude that those on the different sides represent different aspects of the world (viz. an empty boat (east), human artefacts (south), wild animals (west) and domesticated animals (north). Whether you agree with this analysis is up to you… the depictions look a bit ambiguous to me but what do I know. There are also 100 cupmarks (none on the east face).

They talk about the folklore too, which is mostly from a 1902 article by Lucie de Villers (’Le Menhir de Saint-Samson pres Dinan’ in Revue des Traditions Populaires 17(6)):

The vein of quartz diagonally crossing the stone was supposed to be from the devil’s whip, or perhaps from the chains he used to try to drag it into hell. The devil wanted to use the stone as a key to open up hell (so he could pop some sinners in there) – but Saint-Samson and his pal Saint-Michel chased him away before he’d completed his evil plan.

There are various beliefs about a flood in Armorica: Ys is a legendary city in the bay of Douarnenez – it was submerged when the key of the dyke protecting the city was stolen from the king. In the 19th century local people said the stele was the key to the sea, and if the stone was removed, the sea would flood across the whole of France.

In other legends the stone is only one of three keys to the sea (one of the others was stolen by an evil woman from Breton in cohoots with the devil, and the third was kept in a distant country – or perhaps the other two were lost, or in the hands of a witch). The reason the stone is at such an angle is because the devil tried to take it away but didn’t succeed. If someone dares to turn the stone, the sea will bubble out from under it and cause more trouble than Noah’s flood.

One of the alternative names for the stone is ‘Pierre Bonde’ – bonde is the same word as the wooden bung used to seal a barrel.

Despite all this connection to the sea, the stone is about 20km from the sea and 55m above it. It’s suggested in the article that it’s at the point of the river where the maximum extent of the tidal wave would have been in the Neolithic, and that points to the reason for its location.

For the young antiquary. Series IV.

Hole stones are more abundant in Ireland than is generally supposed, and we have some fine examples in the North. The best I know is “The Holestone,” Doagh, County Antrim, a very massive galean of basalt, with a bevelled hole through the upper part, bevelled on both sides so that the actual hole or centre of the stone is not large. Whatver may have been the original use to which this stone was put, one legend says criminals were chained to it, others that it was a contract stone, contracts of various kinds being ratified by joining hands through the hole. In later days it seems to have been – and possibly still is – used by engaged couples to ratify their engagement. It stood when I last saw it very close to the edge of a quarry that was rapidly approaching it. I trust that it may not follow other fine prehistoric memorials of the same area destroyed through the ignorance or apathy of the farmers on whose land those memorials stood. [...]

Robert J Welch encouraging the youth in the Northern Whig, 20th March 1924.

The line of the Devil’s Ditch and the county boundary runs pretty straight towards Park House (still a hotel, on the old line of the A303), which sounds like where Park Gate must have been, and presumably the stone. So it makes you wonder if this huge stone did have some significance. I can’t see it marked on a map so not sure quite where it was – it’s hard to tell which direction the ‘narrow lane’ was heading (possibly NW back along the boundary but who knows). Now the area is carved up with roads so I fear it won’t be there any longer. But it sounds impressively big.

The county boundary at Clarendon Hill, about a mile west of North Tidworth, turns towards the south along an old landmark called the “Devil’s Ditch,” on the western side of Beacon Hill, down to Park House. The burial mounds called barrows abound in the direction of Ambresbury; and no wonder, for we are approaching what was once the fashionable burying-ground of eminent Ancient Britons.

[...] At Park Gate, on the county boundary, on the road between Andover and Amesbury, there is, or was, in a field abutting on a narrow lane leading from the roadside inn, a flat stone, of large dimensions, 11ft. long, 12ft. in breadth, and 5ft. in thickness. One of the many traditions about Stonehenge is that the great Sarsens came from Andover, and this Park Gate stone, in order to help the tradition, is quoted as having been on its way thither but abandoned.

From ‘Notes on the Border of Wilts and Hants’ by the Rev. Canon J.E. Jackson, in WANHM v21, 1883.

That night the three heroes [Laegaire, Conall and Cuchulain] were given as good a feast as before, but they were put to eat it in a room by themselves. When night came on, three enchanted monsters, with the shape of cats, were let out from the cave that was in the hill of the Sidhe at Cruachan, to attack them.

When Conall and Laegaire saw them, they got up into the rafters, leaving their food after them, and there they stayed till morning. Cuchulain did not leave his place, but when one of the monsters came to attack him, he gave a blow of his sword at its head; but the sword slipped off as if from a stone.

Then the monster stayed quiet, and Cuchulain sat there through the night watching it. With the break of day the cats were gone, and Ailell came in and saw what way the heroes were. “Are you not satisfied to give the Championship to Cuchulain, after this?” he said. “We are not,” said Conall and Laegaire; “it is not against beasts we are used to fight, but against men.”

...

There was at Cruachan the Hill of the Sidhe, or, as some called it, the Cave of Cruachan. It was there Midhir brought Etain one time, and it is there the people of the Sidhe lived; but it is seldom any living person had the power to see them.

It is out of that hill a flock of white birds came one time, and everything they touched in all Ireland withered up, until at last the men of Ulster killed them with their slings. And another time enchanted pigs came out of the hill, and in every place they trod, neither corn nor grass nor leaf would sprout before the end of seven years, and no sort of weapon would wound them. But if they were counted in any place, or if the people so much as tried to count them, they would not stop in that place, but they would go on to another. But however often the people of the country tried to count them, no two people could ever make out the one number.

From Lady Gregory’s ‘Cuchulain of Muirthemne’ (1902), page 68 and page 148.

Mr John S. Leitch, Longformacus, told the party of an old tradition about the stones and said that this was that “Auld Nick” had undertaken to build a cauld at Kelso across the Tweed. As he could not get the material at Kelso, he had gone to Dunbar for it, and there he had filled his mittens. As he had flown back from Dunbar one of his mittens had rubbed against the top of a hill with the result that the mitten burst and the contents fell where they now saw the stones. So angry had “Auld Nick” been that he had refused to build a cauld at Kelso.

Mr Leitch went on to tell the company that during the last war a German bomber had dropped 27 bombs close behind the stones, killing three sheep. He had told an old man in the village about this and the old man’s reply was that it was not the first time things had been dropped at Byrecleuch. (Laughter.)

From a trip of 70 members of the Berwickshire Naturalists’ Club, reported in the Berwick Advertiser, 26th May 1949. I didn’t know the word but a cauld is a weir or dam on a river.

On the way back to the carriages [from the Boscawen-Un circle] the party visited Careg-Tol, a fine pile of granite rocks not far from the Circle, commanding an extensive view. Thereon are some shallow rock basins, the outline resembling a human foot, and which, being of superhuman size, are locally called giant’s or devil’s footprints.

From a report of an excursion of the Penzance Natural History and Antiquarian Society, in the Cornubian and Redruth Times, 3rd September 1869.

Some stoney folklore from the hill (not unfamiliar from elsewhere):

On a farm called Craggs, near Sabden, on the sloping side of Pendle, is a mass of sandstone rocks, which have fallen down from the scar above. On one side of the big stones are two marks side by side, about two feet six inches long, and about six inches wide. They resemble gigantic footmarks, and are said to be those of the Devil. However, when he alighted on the stone he must have crossed his legs, for the left footprint is on the right side of the stone. The outline of this foot is quite perfect, but the other is ill-formed. This is accounted for by the well known fact that the Devil has a club foot.

About a mile from the “Devil’s Footprints,” and on the crest of the hill above Ashendean Clough, not far from the Well Springs public-house, are a quantity of stones scattered about on the ground, locally known as “The Apronful.” Nearly in the centre of them is a hollow in the ground, and the writer is inclined to think that these stones were formerly built into a rude wall round the hollow as a base for a beacon fire, and that they have since been scattered about as they now lie.

The local legend however, is as follows. One day the Devil was coming with an apronful of stones for the purpose of knocking down Clitheroe Castle. He stepped from Hambledon Hill on to the side of Pendle, where he left the footmarks on Cragg’s Farm before alluded to. His next step was to the Apronful. Here being in view of the Castle, he took one of the stones and threw it towards Clitheroe; but just as he was in the act of doing so, his ‘brat string’ broke, and all the stones he was carrying were tumbled on to the ground. [The stone he was throwing] fell short of the mark, and may now be seen, with the marks of his fingers on it, in a field above Pendleton.

The breaking of the apron-string is a very common incident in folk stories. It occurs in connection with the building by the Devil of a bridge near Kirkby Lonsdale; and in an Ormskirk legend of the Devil.

From a piece in the Burnley News, 8th January 1916.

Just to warn you, if you see a horse here. Just leave it alone.

The Seven Herds of Sallachie and the Water-horse.

Lang syne, when men, and flocks, and herds were plenty in Sutherland, there were seven herds watching their flocks by Loch Shin, and it was evening. They all quarrelled among the others. Said one herd to the other, “That is my father’s horse.” “No, it is my father’s horse”: and they fell to fighting (for the horse looked different to each of them). The first jumped up. “There is room for two,” said the second, and jumped up also. The others were angry.

“It is a bonny horse, too,” said a girl that came by, when they were all up but one. And she patted its shining skin, but her hand stuck to it.

“Oh! Annach,” cried her brother,“will ye die with the others, or want your hand?” “Oh! take off the hand and let us run.”

So he took the hand off, and they two ran home, and the seven herds of Sallachie were never seen again.

Mr Young, Lairg.

It’s a bit ghastly isn’t it, with hands being chopped off and magic water horses willfully drowning people. Excellent.

From Miss Dempster’s “The Folk-lore of Sutherlandshire” in The Folk-Lore Journal volume 6.

From Mr Borlase’s article in The Cornish Telegraph, 27th April 1864:

Having obtained the kind consent of William Rashleigh, Esq. of Menabilly, Cornwall (to whom the property belongs), I visited Chapel Uny on the 10th of August, 1863. The ground above and around was intersected by the low dilapidated walls of an ancient British village somewhat similar to, but in no way so perfect as, those at Chysauster (where there is also a cave), at Bossullow Crellas, and other places in the neighbourhood.

In two places the ground had fallen in, disclosing in the one a portion of the side of a circular subterranean building; and in the other a deep and dark cavity. It appears that for the last century the cave has remained in exactly the same state as it is at present. Traditions of the place aver that it terminates beneath a huge ‘cairn’ [where] treasure is concealed; and also that it leads to the fortification of Caer Bran, which is about a quarter of a mile distant: but the former of these curious traditions has already proved to be incorrect.

I guess he’s suggesting the fogou at Carn Euny connects with this spot.

I’ve found Grinsell’s source about the Gappergennies:

There was another barrow, over which the road to Fontmel now runs, by Folly Hanging Gate, near Washer’s Pit. In this lonely place, till within living memory, strange sounds were made by creatures in the air called Gappergennies, or however else the name may be spelt.* Of the nature of these sounds I have not been able to learn anything, ecept that they could be successfully imitated by human lips.

When, perhaps fifty years ago, a metalled road was made to Fontmel instead of the old cart-track, this barrow, which lay close to the old road and on the line of the new one, was dug up, and the bones it contained buried in the churchyard. As there is no entry of the fact in the register, this was no doubt done without the burial service.

On the down, by the roadside, a cross had always been kept cut, opposite the barrow. This has been neglected since the reinterment; and since then, also, the strange sounds have not been heard.

The low mound and the cross on the turf are well remembered. On the common below Sandpits Field is a line of small barrows, which seem to have been opened at some remote date. No exploration of any of these Ashmore remains has in recent times been attempted...

* Otherwise called Gabbygammies. The late Mr Stephen Hall, of the Manor Farm, who had often heard the sounds, thought they were made by badgers. (E.H.)

God what a let down. But also in the book:

With the hollow below the Folly, where the road to Fontmel crosses the bottom, a legend is connected, well known in Ashmore, into which the name of the Barbers has been introduced, though the story must be far older than their time. It runs that a Squire Barber, or perhaps his daughter, for the tale is variously told, was warned in a dream on three successive nights, or else three times on the same night, that some one was in distress at Washer’s Pit.

The person warned woke the household and asked for a volunteer to go down to the place. No one would venture, except the cook. Her master gave her his best hunter for the ride, and she went forth to find a lady in white hanging by her hair from an ash tree over the well, now closed, at Washer’s Pit. She released the victim and carried her back on the horse to Ashmore [...]

Connected with the same ground as this legend and that about the barrow at Folly Hanging Gate, is another of a woman in white, who has been seen and felt brushing by them, within the last fifty years, by travellers between Spinney’s Pond and Washer’s Pit. I have heard it connected with the barrow, but the true form of that story is the Gappergennies; and the affair at Washer’s Pit ended too happily to generate a ghost. This must be some third and independent legend.

It is curious that in a parish full, as Ashmore is, of dark and lonely places, no other neighbourhood than these few yards on the road to Fontmel should have its story.

Pp 3 and 20 in Ashmore, Co. Dorset: A History of the Parish, by E W Watson, 1890.

Washer’s Pit is actually the other side of Ashmore and nowhere near the longbarrow. But as an example of excellent local barrow folklore I hope this is the best place to record it.

Doubtless there is not a single jot of evidence for the following. But if you want to experience a thrill about those savage Ancient Britons then it’s just the thing. Also, it’s always nice to involve the Phoenicians in some way, don’t you find.

Some months since a query was asked in these columns as to the derivation, &c., of the word ‘toot’. Much interesting information was given, but I don’t think the derivation as given below was hinted at. This derivation I found in a book published in 1888, written by Theodore Compton, and called “Winscombe Sketches of Rural Life and Scenery.”

Speaking of Cleeve Toot, “a remarkable crag or conical rock, the top of which can be seen above the Brockley Woods from the railway between Nailsea and Yatton,” we are informed that this is supposed to be one of the Toot Hills used by the Ancient Britons for sacrifices to the Celtic god Teutas. Also there are several other Toothills in different parts of England, as well as other places supposed to be named from the same deity – Tottenham, Tutbury, Tooting, to which might possibly be added Chewton Mendip and Chew Magna, near which is the Druid Temple of Stanton Drew. The Celtic deity Teutas was identified with the [Roman] god Mercurius, the Greek Hermes, the Egyptian Thoth and the Phoenician Tautus. Finally, reference is made to the human sacrifices which used to be made on Cleeve Toot. -- F.F.

In the Notes and Queries section of the Taunton Courier, 13th May 1936.

Derham, or Durham, is remarkable for certain huge Ramparts and Trenches, which shew, that it has antiently been the Scene of some Military Action; and here Ceaulin the Saxon, in a bloody Engagement, slew three British Princes, and by that Means dispossessed the Britons from that Part of the Country: ‘Tis likewise noted for many fine Springs, which supply the Boyd.

From The Natural History of England, volume 1, by Benjamin Martin (1759).

In the parish of Glantane formerly called Kilshannig, and six miles distant from Mallow is the place called Carrigcleena or Cleena’s Rock. It is a townland and gets its name from the conspicuous rampart of rock that is situated in it and pointed out as the entrance to the dwelling place of Cliodhna, the Fairy Queen. Many are the stories told about Cliodhna around this locality.

Cliodhna’s father was called the Red Druid and generally regarded as the last of the druids. He, it is said, was made prince of the territory which now embraces the town of Fermoy and its neighbourhood by the reigning King of Munster, whose life he had saved in battle when the latter was fighting with the High King of Ireland. On this occasion the Red Druid raised a great storm by his magical powers and compelled the High King’s forces to retire from the engagement.

Cliodhna and her sister Aeibhill are famous figures in Irish fairy lore, and their period is believed to have been the middle of the eighth century. Cliodhna, the elder daughter of the Red Druid, seems to have inherited strange powers like her father. She fell in love with a young chieftain named O’Kieffe, who was lord of the territory adjoining that of her father. But, unfortunately, the younger sister, Aeibhill, also became enamoured of the same chieftain, and this aroused the wrath of Cliodhna, who was of a proud, passionate and haughty disposition. Full of jealousy, Cliodhna resolved to make her own union with the chieftain secure at all costs, and to this end, as the story goes, she changed her sister Aeibhill with a magic wand into a beautiful white cat, after the latter had refused to renounce her affection for the man to whom Cliodhna was betrothed.

When the Red Druid and his wife learned of the fate of their daughter, they both took the sad news so much to heart that they died shortly afterwards. The Druid was buried on the summit of a hill about three miles from Rathcormac since called Carn Thierna, and his wife was laid to rest near Glanworth.

(N.B.: We read of some interesting finds recently, including the bones of a woman, in the great dolmen called Leaba Chaillighe, near Glanworth, Co. Cork. Were these the remains of the Red Druid’s wife, who, according to tradition was buried beneath this dolmen!)

But to return to the story, Cliodhna married the chieftain O’Kieffe, and all went well until he came to hear of her sister’s fate at her hands. They became estranged as a result and Cliodhna retired to an underground palace, having been discarded by her husband. This palace is, according to many accounts in the townland above mentioned viz., Carrigcleena, so called by the natives “the Rock.” This palace was long believed by the peasantry to be the scene of the general assembly of the fairies throughout Ireland, where they met to consider important matters relative to their race.

Aeibhill, after being enchanted by her sister took up residence, as local tradition goes, in an underground palace also, situated at Castlecor, near Kanturk, Co. Cork, beneath an old cave hidden by trees. It is also said that she resumes her natural form for a week each year at midsummer, appearing as a beautiful maiden of twenty. She was regarded as the guardian spirit of the Dalcassian race, and Queen of the Fairies of North Munster. The King of Ireland, Brian Boru, is reported as saying on the evening of the Battle Clontarf, that Aeibhill came to him the previous night and told him he should fall that day.

The last account of Cliodhna, as told by local residents around Carrigcleena, runs as follows:
Situated about two miles north of Carrigcleena, and on the road to Mallow, is a cross-roads called Pindy’s Cross, Pindy being a corruption of pente, Greek for five. There are five roads branching off at these cross-roads. It seems there was a smithy or forge at this spot long ago, no trace of which is to be found now. Cliodhna, mounted on a white horse, appeared before the forge and asked the smith to put a shoe on one of horse’s legs. This the smith promptly did. When leaving Cliodhna is reported to have called the smith’s attention to a clump of bracken that was quite green-looking and growing nearby. She said that she was leaving the place, but did not disclose where she was going, and gave the smith a sign whether she would return again or not. The sign was the green bracken. If, on the following day, the bracken was green as usual, she would return, but on the other hand, if the bracken was withered, then never again would she come back. The smith next day saw the bracken shrivelled up and withered, and Cliodhna has never been heard of since.

Written by Donal Archdeacon, a teacher at Carrigcleena More, for the 1930s Schools Collection of folklore. You can see the original document at Duchas.ie.

From the School’s Collection of the 1930s, now being transcribed at Duchas.ie.

In the town-land of Labbycally where I live there is a Cromlach or ancient grave called the “Hag’s Bed” It is said that an old hag and her husband lived there with their five children. It is supposed that they were all buried there. There is one big grave and five small ones.
In ones of the stones there is a dent. The story that is told is that the Hag made an attempt to strike her husband with a hatchet and that she hit the rock. The dent is to be seen up to this day. The river Funcheon flows near the Hag’s Bed and a big rock is to be seen in the middle of the river. The old saying is that the hag and her husband had a fight. He ran to the river and she flung the rock after him and killed him.
Told to Peggy Foley by Mrs Roche, age 68.

The townland of Labbycally, Glanworth, Co Cork is situated about 4 miles north of Fermoy on the road to Glanworth village. Near the road on the land now owned by Mr Quinlan there is a well known cromlech which is called the Hags Bed”. An old hag and husband are said to have lived there long ago. People say that it was the hag that lifted the huge flat stone out of the river Funcheon and put it up on supports. There is a big underground tunnel running from the Hag’s Bed to the river. One day the hag and her husband quarrelled and she is said to have flung a big stone at him. The stone landed in the Funcheon and is still there. There are marks on it it which are said to be the print of the hag’s fingers.
Told to John Collins by Michael Collins, age 47.

Leitrim weirdness (and some casual destruction of archaeology), collected by the local teacher from Terence Geoghegan, a 55 year old farmer.

In the townland of Mullaghgarve in the year 1936, I was working on a Relief Scheme, and I came on a mound of stones. There were big long limestone flags, standing up on end along the sides of the mound and at both ends. Outside the flags there were piles of stones of various sizes and shapes – some of them would weigh about 2 cwt. Inside the same standing flags there were a number of broken flags which appeared to me to have been a cover that reached from the standing flags on one side to those on the opposite side. Of the standing flags there was one on the western end higher than the others. Outside that flag we got ashes similar to that, that comes from a turf fire.

Between the standing flags or stones were stones of various sizes which we removed for road metal. At a depth of about three or three and a half feet we came on a number of what we thought, in the gathering darkness of the evening, were human bones, and part of a skull. I brought home a number of the bones with me to examine them, as I heard there was a Druid buried there.

This happened in the month of December. Just as we were quitting work a friend invited me to his house to spend a few hours there. I went to it and brought the bag containing the bones with me. The people of the locality saw lights coming from and going to the house while I was in it but I knew nothing of this whatever.

I left the house at 11 or 11.30 p.m. and when I was a short distance from it I saw a number of lights in front of me, and as I was making my way to the road which I was approaching at right angles, I saw more lights farther away from me coming down the road. They were like so many lanterns, and I hurried to overtake those in front of me, as I thought they might be young lads going to a dance, and that their company would help to shorten the road home. I did not succeed as they went off on the bye-road where I was working during the day. I then waited for the other lights that were still coming on, and when they came to the by-road they went down it too. I then thought it strange that I was within 12 feet of each group of lights, and that I heard neither talking nor walking. There were about 7 or 8 lights in all.

I then continued on home, and nothing strange occurred till I was about 400 yards from my home. Suddenly a small light sprang up in front of me, and it was about a foot up from the ground. I first thought it was a glow-worm, and I stood to find out what had it raised so high above the ground. I put my hand under it, and raised it up on my hand. I felt no heat from it, or any kind of feeling of weight or softness. I at once shook it off my hand, and away it sailed through the air, increasing in size, and it went in the direction of the road where I was working, that is, in the direction of the mound. It went as straight as an arrow for there, but as a hill intervened between me and the mound I cannot say where it went when it crossed the hill.

As soon as I got to the house (my home) the roosters started to crow louder than I ever heard them before. I then went out to see was there anything wrong with the cattle in the byre, and to find out what was disturbing the birds, but I noticed nothing unusual. I then returned to the house, and with candle light I examined the bones which I had brought with me, and I concluded they were those of a human being.
As long as I was awake the cocks kept up the crowing, but as I was tired I fell asleep soon after going to bed, but my wife told me they kept up the din till daylight. She did not know that I had any bones home with me till next morning, for if she did I am sure she would make me put them outside the house.

From the Schools Collection, being digitised at Duchas.

One time the landlord Danny Hewittson of the Lough Veagh estate was erecting a mill in his yard and he sent some of his men to the old abbey in Gartan for a stone which he thought suitable for putting under the upright shaft. This stone was round in shape and there was a hollow in the centre. It was supposed to have been used by Colmcille for holding holy water in his abbey.
When the mill was complete he told the men to bring the horses along and [?] it but all the horses on the estate could not drive it. They removed the stone and put it back in the abbey and substituted another stone. The mill then worked perfectly.

Sounds a bit like a bullaun stone to me. St Columkille / Colmcille certainly had a lot of stones.
From the Losad / Losset volume of The Schools’ Collection, transcribed online at Duchas.ie. I can’t make out the [?] though.

A warning in case you were thinking of doing some laundry in the sea loch to the north of the Dun. Although conceivably it could refer to somewhere similarly named – phonetic attempts in English to name Gaelic places are still pretty confusing 300 years later.

There are several Springs and Fountains of curious Effects [on Lewis]; such as that at Loch-Carlvay, that never whitens Linen, which hath often been try’d by the Inhabitants.

From Martin Martin’s ‘Description of the Western Isles of Scotland’ (second edition of 1716).

... One comes unexpectedly to Lud Church entrance at which, on payment of threepence, with a reduction for quantity, in this case numbers, one passes through a rough wooden gate to the right and down worn steps into a long narrow chasm whose rocky sides vary between 30 and 50 feet in height.

The dank, damp air, moss-grown boulders, and air of desolation, produce an eerie atmosphere which is borne out by the history of this place. A ship’s figurehead fixed high up in the rocks and known as the statue of Alice de Lud-Auk, or our lady of Lud, but in spite of the owners collecting dues from visitors this statue now lies merely a shapeless piece of wood on the floor of the defile.
So a part of history lies uncared for and some of us would wish that something had been done to preserve this most interesting feature.

Lud Church is also known as Traffords Leap because one Squire Trafford of Swythamley Hall, whilst hunting one day found himself on the brink of the chasm without opportunity of turning his horse and to save his life he made his horse leap across. Several hounds were killed as they failed to clear the cleft and fell upon the rocks below.

A popular superstition or legend avers that the redoubtable Friar Tuck here conducted services for Robin Hood and his merry men and it is certain that Lud Church has afforded sanctuary for outlaws and criminals.

It is also established that some of the Lollards held services and meetings for worship here during the persecutions of the reign of Henry V. At the upper end of the cleft is a cave which was used for those services of the Lollards, whose leader was Walter de Lud-Auk, and the story goes that soldiers surprised them during one of their meetings and attempted to fight their way into the cave.

Whilst the soldiers were being held at bay by Montair – a member of the sect – the rest tried to escape from the other end of the cleft. In this engagement, Alice, the beautiful daughter of Walter de Lud-Auk was shot by a bolt from a crossbow aimed by a soldier at Montair. Montair escaped to France and the rest of the Lollards were arrested. Walter de Lud-Auk died in prison.

The wooden effigy which used to commemorate Alice is said to have been the figurehead from a ship named “Swythamley” after the estate in which Lud Church is situated, which was taken after the ship was wrecked and erected in Lud Church in 1860.

Still another story claims that the figure represents Alice Lud who was shot by soldiers when they surprised a meeting of Luddites. Alice Lud was the leader of a band who met in Lud Church to make their decisions.

There have been attempts to explore the cave in which the meetings were held but falling stones have prevented any definite conclusion. The cave is estimated to have been 200 yards long and 100 yards deep.

[...] And just one more story, about Bonny Prince Charlie. The Prince had become separated from his army owing to a delay at Manchester, and was hurrying across the moors to meet his army which was expected to be below the Roches. Darkness had fallen when he reached Swythamley and so he and his bodyguard decided to sleep in Lud Church. Waking early next morning Prince Charlie was surprised to find a beautiful girl watching him. The girl ran away as soon as she saw he had woken but, when later he made a thorough search of the cleft, he discovered to his great delight that she was Flora MacDonald who had disguised herself as a member of his bodyguard in order to be near him.

From a piece in the Sheffield Independent, 30th September 1938.

TO PLEASURE PARTIES.
Visitors to Buxton are respectfully informed that E. ROBINSON, Dane Cottage, Quarnford, has permission from the owner, P. Brocklehurst, Esq. of Swithamley Hall, to SHOW LUDCHURCH. Refreshments may be had at the Cottage.

Buxton Advertiser. 8th September 1875.

LUDCHURCH. Tourists can be provided (Sundays excepted) with TEA, &c.; also with Milk, at the Manor Farm, Quarnford. Good Stabling.

Buxton Advertiser. 25th September 1880.

Dun Dornghil, erroneously called Dornadilla, is represented at the termination of this Chapter. It was, in the memory of man, about thirty feet high, but is now much dilapidated. Not a stone of this fabric “is moulded by a hammer, nor is there any fog or other material used to fill up the interstices among the stone; yet the stones are most artfully laid together, seem to exclude the air, and have been piled with great mathematical exactness.”
The following verse concerning it, is repeated by the inhabitants.
Dun Dornghil Mac Duiff
Or an taobh ri meira don strha
Scheht mille o manir
Er an rod a racha na fir do Gholen.

Translation.
The Dun of Dornghiall, son of Duff,
Built on the side of the strath next to Rea,
Seven miles from the ocean,
And in the way by which the warriors travel to Caithness.*

* Rev. A. Pope, in Archaeologia, v.

From ‘The Scottish Gael; or, Celtic manners, as preserved among the Highlanders’ by James Logan (first published 1831).

After a little delay, the remainder of the journey was accomplished to the next regular stoppage, at a place called “The Piper’s Stones.” here, again, Lord Walter Fitzgerald had some information prepared for the members, which he read out at the spot. He explained that the existing objects of antiquarian interest lying a short distance to the south-west of Ballymore-Eustace are three in number. In the first place there are the large boulders of graite placed in a circle 31ft. in diameter in the townland of Broadleas Commons, called “The Piper’s Stones.” They are now 29 in number. Formerly they made up a complete circle of closely placed boulders, though now there are large gaps in the ring showing where in times past many had been broken up and carried away for building purposes.

At a place called Athgreney, there is another similar circle of stones, and in the Deerpark, near Blessington, formerly there was a third one, each called “The Piper’s Stones,” but this latter was demolished years ago for building purposes.

[...] The name, “Piper’s Stones,” was often applied to this class of monument, and must have its origin in some now forgotten legend. The only explanation the old people give for the name is that bagpipe music, played by the “good people” or fairies, is still occasionally heard at the spot.

A quarter of a mile to the north-east of “The Piper’s Stones” are the remains of a Pagan sepulchral moat, called Knockshee, meaning “the fairy hill.” Little of it is now left, three-quarters of it having been demolished years ago, probably by some farmers, for the purpose of top-dressing the adjoining lands.

[...] Half a mile to the north-west of “The Piper’s Stones” is a prostrate granite monolith, known as “The Long Stone.” It formerly stood in a small rath-like enclosure now levelled, and which was thrown down in the year 1836.

From the Kildare Archaeological Society’s annual excursion reported in the Warder and Dublin Weekly Mail, 22nd September 1900.

Somewhere in the vicinity of this site is or was a holy well and a bullaun stone:

St Patrick, the great local saint, is commemorated at the present day by a holy well and “knee” situated in the field (locally known as the Street Park) lying west of the school-house. It was usual for an old resident (in the barracks) to make daily pilgrimages to the well. Some of the older residents believed that St. Patrick left the impress of his knee on a rock not far from the well. However, it is quite possible that the “knee” was a mixing place for cattle medicines. It was also usual for sufferers to drop some coins, pins or trifles into the knee. Superstition had it that the ailment would be relieved in this manner. If anyone should take any of these offerings out of the knee, he should be afflicted by warts.

From information recorded for the Schools Collection of Irish folklore in the 1930s, online at Duchas.ie.

The information for the site on the Historic Environment Viewer says that there are exposed blocks of limestone visible in places in the bank of the barrow here. The local landowner pointed out that major drainage operations had taken place here over the years, so large parts of the ground were previously marshy or fully flooded, immediately to NE and E of the barrow. The holy well and bullaun are said to be about 400m to its east.

There is a field near my home on Mrs Joe McGlelland’s farm in Duffcastle, a large stone standing on four smaller ones. It is supposed to be an ancient druid’s altar. It has been told that long ago two men dug under these stones and unearthed one of the smaller pillars in search of gold. When they went back to their home they found that the healthy baby they had left in the cradle was now a sickly child. It seemed to have changed in appearance too. It was said that they had done wrong and the change in the child was their punishment. This child lived for years but never grew any bigger.

In Mr John Magovern’s field just at Duffcastle crossroads there is a long stone standing upright.
There are five marks on it supposed to represent the fingermarks of some ancient warrior.
There are some strokes and dots on the bottom of the stone. It is supposed that this is Ogham writing.
There are many forts near my home but there is not much known about them.

Recounted by James Tweedle for the Schools’ Collection of Irish folklore in the 1930s. Digitised at Duchas.ie.

There is a cromlech in Byrne’s field on Fieldstown Hill. The field is called Lios Dubh. Fionn Mac Cumhaill is supposed to be buried there. The cromlech is on the top of the hill. There are some stones standing upright in the ground and a large flat stone on the top of them. The stones are almost covered with clay and the place is overgrown with briars. Within the grave are bones.

Recounted by James Winters for the 1930s Schools’ Collection of folklore in Ireland. Online at Duchas.ie.

Another name for this Cromlech is “Lopa-Erma.” It is said that this name was got from the giant that put it up.
Under the cross stones of the cromlech there is said to be stone steps for a long way down in the ground and it is said to be closed up by the chieftain O’Kelly some years ago.

From Charles Fuery, a 60 year old local farmer, recorded for the Schools’ Collection of Irish folklore in the 1930s. Online at Duchas.ie

Legend of Fiddler’s Hill
Does Warham Discovery Prove Old Legend True.

Is the old legend of Fiddler’s Hill, Warham, true?
What appears to be surprising confirmation of it has been brought to light by Norfolk County Council men working on the roads. They have discovered in a mound at the crossing of the Wighton and Stiffkey road and the Binham and Warham road the skeletons of a man and a dog.

For generations the cross-roads have been known as Fiddler’s Hill because of the old folk story of the fiddler. Centuries ago there was a secret passage joining Walsingham Abbey to Binham Priory. One day a fiddler and his dog, runs the legend, attempted to walk from the Abbey to the Priory by way of the old secret tunnel. Their progress was followed by some friends above ground, for as he walked, the fiddler played. The strains of the music were plainly heard slowly moving away from Walsingham towards Fiddler’s Hill. Then they ceased. The fiddler and his dog were never seen again, but mysterious music, it is sometimes heard at midnight.

The bones have been handed over to the police, who took them to Dr. Hicks, of Wells, for examination. Later they may be seen by an anthropologist.

From the Thetford and Watton Times, 15th April 1933.

Beacon Fire- Mr. Langham, of “Needless Inn,” informs me that he well remembers that thirty-four years ago there stood, on the highest point of Beacon, an erection of rude and ancient masonry, about six feet high, of a round form, and having in its centre a cavity about a yard deep and a yard in diameter, the sides of which were very thickly covered with burnt pitch. This, he says, had all the appearance of having been used for holding the beacon fires. He remembers, too, that at that period, the entrenchments were much more visible than they are now [...]
History and Antiquities of Charnwood Forest, T.R. Potter, 1842, p48.

Beacon Hill. – Not satisfied with my single opinion of these extraordinary remains, I requested Mr. Lester, a highly intelligent farmer and surveyor, who lives at the foot of Beacon, to examine them. He was perfectly astonished. Though long resident, almost upon the spot, and aware of the remains described as lying on the south-west side of the hill, it had never occurred to him that there were others. “Often,” says he,” as I have crossed that wonderful hill, and always with the feeling that it was a charmed spot, I have been either so occupied with the distant prospects, or so circumscribed in my immediate view by the inequalities of the surface, that I have never before once noticed the most remarkable fortifications to which you have directed me.”
Potter, p49.

Wake at Nanpantan. – The Annual Wake, now kept on Nanpantan, but formerly kept on Beacon, the origin of which is lost in obscurity, may be a remnant of [a Druidical] festival.
Potter, p45.

I’ll take the Druidical festival with a pinch of salt, but the Beacon must have seen its fair share of revels. I totally understand the farmer not being able to look round for “inequalities of the surface” (i.e. trying not to fall over) – that often affects me. And I like his italicisation of charmed... it hints at a fairyish spot.

Collected into ‘County Folk-lore: Printed extracts no. 3, Leicestershire and Rutland’ by C.J. Billson (1895).

From the church we walked up to the Roman encampment of “Cadbury Castle,” which is most interesting. It was partially excavated in 1848, and on the previous evening we had been shown many interesting relics taken from it. The most valuable of these is a large ring of debased silver. On an intaglio of a light green antique paste is engraved an object supposed to be connected with the sacrifices of Apollo or Hercules. There are, besides, some smaller rings, some armlets, reminding one singularly of the present fashionable bangles, and making one remember that there is nothing new under the sun. Both the workmanship and design of these are singularly delicate. There were glass and enamel beads, horses’ teeth, fragments of pottery, &c.

All these had been taken from a well in the centre of the camp. There has been an attempt to fill up this well, but it persistently sinks down in the centre. There is a tradition that there is an underground passage from the top of Cadbury Castle to Dolberry Hill (Killerton). Risdon gives us the following couplet:-

“If Cadbury Castle and Dolberry Hill down delved were,
Then Denshire might plow with a golden coulter and eare with a guilded sheer.”

From the same source we learn “that a dragon, forsooth!” is supposed to guard these treasures.

The views from Cadbury Castle are both extensive and beautiful. The Dartmouth Tors were all plainly visible, and we saw Cawsand white with snow. Farther to the left our eyes rested on Exmouth and its Bar, and on the other side we saw the range of hills at Wellington, in Somersetshire.

By ‘Volo non Valeo’ in the Exeter and Plymouth Gazette, 29th May 1885. Tristram Risdon wrote his ‘Survey of the County of Devon’ in 1632.

I don’t understand how the traditional rhyme isn’t already written here. So I don’t apologise for the length of the following:

[...] Folklore and science, romance and archaeology, the unlearned and the learned, have all contributed answers [to the meaning of the stones]. From the folklore of the neighbourhood we have gleaned the story of the stones which has undoubtedly proved the most popular, and which will probably be attached to them as long as they stand. Indeed it is probable that if we searched the whole of England we should not find a site in which the folklore is a more living thing.

The story is well-enough known, but here it is:--
A certain King set out to conquer all England and had arrived at the head of his forces at the hill on which Rollright stands. He had almost reached its crest when a witch who claimed the ground appeared and stopped him with the words -

Seven long strides shalt thou take and
If Long Compton thou canst see
King of England thou shalt be.

Exulting greatly, thinking his victory assured, the King called out –

Stick, stock, stone,
As King of England I’ll be known.

and took the seven long strides, when, lo! there arose before him a mound of earth, which at the completion of the strides prevented him from seeing the village of Long Compton below. The witch then pronounced the doom --

As Long Compton thou canst not see,
King of England thou shalt not be,
Rise up stick, stand still stone,
For King of England thou shalt be none.
Thou and thy men hoar stones shall be,
And I myself an eldern tree.

And so it came about.

[...] The elder is abundant all around the stones and several bushes have been pointed out as that embodying the witch. If you find the right one and cut it her blood oozes out, and the stones are seen to shiver, in an endeavour to come to life, for when the witch’s blood is drawn her spell is broken and the King and his army will pursue their triumphant march.

On Midsummer eve, when the elder was in bloom it was formerly the custom for people to come to the King Stone and stand in a circle. Then an elder bush near by was cut and those present have affirmed that the King moved his head. The inhabitants of the district have, however, a dread of breaking the spell, and the writer was told, not so long ago, that those of Long Compton will not burn elder sticks in their grates.

The fairies dance round the King Stone of nights. One Will Hughes, of Long Compton, now gathered to his fathers, had seen them. They were little folk, he said, like little girls to look at. His wife’s mother, who had been murdered as a witch, remembered a hole in the bank out of which the fairies came, and she and her playmates had often placed a flat stone over the opening to keep them in, but it had always been turned over before the morning. Folklore and religion blend in the attitude felt towards the spot and Sir Arthur Evans tells of a labourer who always went to the stones on Good Friday, for there he would be on Holy ground.

Away to the south-east on the edge of the large field in which the circle is situated, is a rather jumbled group of five large stones, called the Whispering Knights, which are said to be five treacherous officers who had detached themselves from the King’s army and were plotting treason when the spell operated. They have their own particular piece of folklore and at midnight are said to run down the hill to drink at a spring in little Rollright spinney, every night according to some, only at special seasons according to others. At dusk, it is said, you can hear them whispering to each other.

Many of the stories attached to Rollright are to be found in other parts of Europe, and it is evident that we have in them something more than local superstition, but the subject is too great to be discussed here.

Another legend says that the stones become men at midnight, join hands and dance round in a circle and in Cornwall the name “Stone Dance” is attached to such circles as Rollright, the explanation there being that they are dancers turned to stone for dancing on the Sabbath.

[...] Rollright and its kindred circles were to the prehistoric people who erected and used them, places as sacred as our cathedrals and churches are to us to-day. That it should come, as it did yesterday afternoon, under the auctioneer’s hammer in a public saleroom, would have filled our ancestors, could they have foreseen and understood such a contingency, with the same kind of horror we should feel if the same auctioneers were to offer Westminster Abbey to the highest bidder.

From an article in the Banbury Guardian, 30th June 1927.

To the Editor of the West Briton. [...] In the year 1851 I was induced to visit Prospidnick village and hill, particularly the latter, by reading in Norden’s Speculi Britanniae Pars, &c., 1584, an account, accompanied by an engraving, of a singular mass of rocks that is in the neighbourhood; and, on making inquiries, was informed that Men Amber was still in existence, but not in the same state as when sketched by Norden, whose description is here given verbatim: “Mayne Amber, certain huge stones so sett and subtillye combined, not by art as I take it, but by nature, as a childe may move, the upper stone beinge of a huge bignes, with one finger, so equallie balanced it is, and the forces of menie strong men enjoyned, can do no more in moving it. It is to be imagined that theis stones were thus lefte at the general floude, when the earth was washed awaye, and the massie stones remayned, as are mightye rockes uncovered, standing upon lofty hills.” The following is from Carew, 1602:- “More certain though less wonderful, and yet for the strangeness well worth the viewing, Mayn Amber is a rock; Amber as some say signyfieth Ambrose, and a great rock the same is, advanced upon some others of a meaner size, with so equal a counterpoise, that the push of a finger will sensibly move it to and fro, but further to remove it the united forces of many shoulders over weak. Wherefore the Cornish wonder-gatherer thus describeth the same:-- “Be those thy mother Nature’s work, Or proof of Giant’s might, Worthless and ragged though thou show, Yet art thou worth the sight. This hugy rock one finger’s force Apparently will move, But to remove it many strengths Shall all like feeble prove.” Mr. Scawen, whose family had been established for a long time at Molenick, in St. Germans, tells us in his MSS., written in the latter part of the 17th century, when and by whom this logan stone was thrown down. Complaining of the mischief done by strangers, he writes:- “Here, too, we may add what wrong another sort of strangers has done to us, especially in the civil wars, and in particular by destroying Mineamber, a famous monument, being a rock of infinite weight, which as a burden was laid upon other great stonesn; and yet so equally thereon poised up by Nature only, as a little child could instantly move it, but no one man or many remove it. This natural monument all travellers that came that way desired to behold, but in the time of Oliver’s usurpation, when all monumental things became despicable, one Shrubsall, one of Oliver’s heroes, then governor of Pendennis, by labour and much ado caused to be undermined and thrown down, to the great grief of the country, but to his own great glory as he thought, doing it, as he said, with a small cane in his hand. I myself have heard him boast of this act, being a prisoner then under him.” There was a tradition or prophecy, current at the time, that Mineamber, so called by Scawen, should stand as long as England had a king; its overthrow by Shrubsall seems to have been for the purpose of showing the loyal Cornish that kings were to reign no longer. Borlase’s account is as follows:- “In the parish of Sithney stood the famous Logan stone, commonly called Men-amber; it is 11 foot long from east to west, four foot deep, wide six foot; there is no bason on the surface, but on the stone B there is one plain one. This top stone was so nicely poised that, as Mr. Seawen in his MSS. says, &c. There are some marks of the tool upon this stone, the surface, C D, being wrought into a wavy place, as in the Icon; and by its quadrangular shape I should judge it to have been dedicated to Mercury, as by a bason cut in the under stone B, I judge the stone A to be placed on the top of this karn by human art. However that be, certain it is that the vulgar used to resort to this place at particular times of the year, and pay’d to this stone more respect than was thought becoming good christians, which was the reason that by cleaving off part of the stone B, the top stone A was lay’d along in its present reclined posture and its wonderful property of moving easily to a certain point destroyed. It was the top stone, therefore, of this Cragg which drew the common people together and raised their admiration; and I find that in the Cornish language Mea-an-bar signifies the top stone, and I do not at all doubt but that Men-amber is a corruption of Men-an-bar, and signifies nothing either relating to Ambrosius Aurelius, King of Britain, or to the Petrae Ambrosiae of the Ancients, as some learned men have thought.” – Antiquities, 1754. The letters in the last extract refer to a plan of the rock.[...] Yours obediently,

&#916

From a letter in the West Briton newspaper, 20th January 1870. He signs himself as a capital Delta. I guess the 1870 equivalent of an internet name perhaps?!

The “Wart Stone,” or “Font,” appears on the Ordnance Survey Map, No. 26, as “Doughnambraher Font.” Thinking it very unlikely that there should be a font without a church, I came to the conclusion that there might be a bullaun at the spot marked. It is about three-quarters of a mile from Drummeen, or Barrycarroll Castle, and there is a sort of road all the way to it. We turned aside to visit the Castle, and so had to cross the fields to get to the bullaun.

We made inquiries once or twice from the inhabitants, and found out that the name of the place was Kyleane (three syllables), Killian on map; and that there was a stone there which would cure warts.

When we reached the place they pointed out, we soon found a large bullaun, of which I send a sketch. My friends thought it lay in a sort of fort, or enclosure, but I am not so sure. It is a large, flat sandstone, with one large basin in it, and something which looks like the beginning of a second. There are nine round stones in it which make part of the charm against warts: I suppose to turn them round like the Killeany stones.

We measured it as carefully as we could. The length of the stone is about 5 feet 7 inches, the width 3 feet 4 inches, while the basin is 1 foot 8 inches long, and 1 foot 3 inches wide. [...]

Miss G C Stacpoole reports in the 1904 volume of the Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries of Ireland.
The information via the Historic Environment Viewer describes the bullaun and its stones. It says the stone is also known locally as ‘Jack Baker’s Well’ and is made of Old Red Sandstone. It contains ‘seven water-rolled ‘cursing’ stones’. Situated in the basin of a ballaun stone lying in the perimeter of an ecclesiastical enclosure. Seven ‘fist-sized’ egg-shaped water-rolled stones lie in the basin which is sometimes waterfilled and associated with the cure of warts. There were previously ten stones although the number seems to vary up and down over time. Stacpoole includes nine stones in his [her!] drawing. ‘Rounds’ performed here involved rubbing each stone against the afflicted part of the body and placing an offering of some sort under the bullaun. In February 1993 this practice continued. While stones of this type are generally classified as cursing stones there is no known evidence of their use for that purpose in this instance.

I cannot tell you how long it’s taken me to track down the location of this site... variant spellings and unfamiliarity with the area did not help. But anyway it sounds superb so all this is worth the effort. I’d love to visit.

This is a naturally curious place, with a stream disappearing into the ground and reappearing: it’s no wonder it’s replete with folklore and Christianisation. I advise a glance at the Historic Environment Viewer map to see where the well, stream, ‘bed’, and bullauns all are.

This is an extract from an article on ‘The antiquities of the Parish of Kilcomenty’ in The Journal of the Royal Society of Antiquaries for 1904:

About 30 yards east of the graveyard, a rapid stream which there issues from the ground is called St. Commaneth’s Well. This stream flows from Ballinahinch, about two miles distant, and close beside the saint’s bed; it is carried underground for nearly 200 yards, emerging at and forming the well; then, turning sharply by the south wall of the graveyard, it finally empties itself into the bog of Shower.

One of the legends told concerning the well is that long ago it was situated close by the stone known as St. Commaneth’s Bed, but that some cattle having been accidentally allowed to sully its waters, the well in a single night moved down to its present site.

Two of the traditional trout said to frequent holy wells in Ireland are supposed to be here.

Over the well, completely shading its waters, are four ancient trees – one sallow, one whitethorn, and two ash. Those two last are in reality one enormous tree, which, near the lower part of the trunk, is divided in two, and its branches and the hollow by the well are covered with rags and votive offerings of every description, deposited by pilgrims who have made their rounds.

The summer of 1902 was exceptionally dry in North Tipperary, the month of August being phenomenally so. Springs, wells, and streams that in living memory had never been known to do so, ran dry; and St. Commaneth’s Well formed no exception to the general rule, for it must be recorded that we failed to find even one drop of water within its usually brimming basin.

The rounds practised here are seven in number. Having taken seven pebbles from the stream running from the well, and having repeated the Lord’s Prayer, Hail Mary!, Creed, and Gloria, the pilgrim throws one of the pebbles back into the brook, and proceeds to walk round the well. Following the course of the water for a time “sunwards,” through the field south of the stream, he crosses it by a small bridge and enters the graveyard by a gate at the extremity of the south wall. Proceeding along a well-worn pathway by its north and east sides, he quits its precincts by a stile, which brings him to the well again, where he kneels and prays, and so on, until the appointed number of rounds are performed. While Mr. Westropp and I were in the cemetery, a country woman and two children “were making their rounds.”

Close by the spot where the water of the stream disappears for a space under ground rests the traditional bed of the saint, lying north of the stream, and nearer to the road than the graveyard and well. It is a large irregular block of brownish sandstone, 8 feet long, and 4 feet 9 inches wide, extreme measurements, and stands about 2 1/2 to 3 feet high. The highest end is to the west, and here is a large and deep bullaun. To the west of this is a shallow, dish-like bullaun, and there are traces of two or more basins. Two sets of scorings are to be found on the stone; that nearer the top consists of six irregular broad strokes, not ogamic in character, while the set lower down consists of four slight scores. These markings are reputed to represent the impressions of the saint’s ribs and hands.

There’s some extra folklorey information in Lives of the Irish Saints by John O’Hanlon. He mentions that the prayers at the well are good for “bodily and mental ailments.”

He says of the trout: “The following is a local legend. A person of the neighbourhood, at one time, scorning to respect the well, took one of these trout home, and made an effort to roast it; nothing but blood appeared, and the rascal had to bring the trout back to the well; but from that day forward, the family has not had good luck.”

He mentions of the bed: “About two hundred yards noth-east of the well, in the midst of hawthorn and alder trees, there is a great Druidic rock basin, of brown sandstone, quite unlike stone of the immediate place, which is limestone,” and that the basins are “always full or half full of water.”

I love the way he mixes Druids and saints. He says “There is no doubt, that the stone lay, in its present position, long before the period of the patron saint. On the conversion of the Druids, he may have used the basins for baptizing the early Christians of the place, and may have rested on it occasionally. There is nothing impossible or improbable in this presumption, and tradition may be perfectly correct.”

The Hertfordshire HER says there is a (probable) henge here, with its entrances east and west, and a diameter of 85m. There used to be a dene hole inside it, in which Neolithic arrow heads were found. The hole was also known as being ‘Jack O’Legs’s Cave’ (dully, it’s now filled in). But you can’t help thinking that a henge with built-in cave would be a rather marvellous thing.

On Jack O’Legs:

At Weston, two stones in the churchyard, 14ft. 7 inches apart, are said to be the head and foot stones of the giant Jack o’ Legs, who is there buried with his body doubled up. He lived at Baldock, – where, as he walked along the street, he would look in at the first-floor windows, – and thence he shot an arrow, saying that where it fell he wished to be buried. It fell in Weston Churchyard, and, in its flight, knocked away a corner of the church tower. (Told in 1883).

From ‘Scraps of folklore collected by John Philipps Emslie’, C.S. Burne, in ‘Folklore’ v26, no. 2 (June 1915).

Likewise he’s mentioned in ‘Handbook to Hitchin and the neighbourhood’ by Charles Bishop (1875):

On the Great North Road, near the village of Graveley, is a considerable elevation which goes by the name of “Jack’s Hill,” from its having been the scene of depradations on travellers by a noted highwayman called “Jack o’ Legs.” [...]

In fact if you’re interested, there’s a whole book about this character by W.B. Gerish (1905). It suggests the cave was filled in around 1850.

The Camp At Portskewett.
(From a Correspondent).

[...] Thanks to the members of the corps – about 20 in number – who, under the command of Captain Williams, proceeded to the camp on Saturday last, a sufficient number of tents had been pitched for our accommodation before our arrival en masse on Monday.

[...] There is nothing which indicates the whereabouts of the “soldiery” until one is as it were in the midst of them. The tents are completely hidden from view by the high ramparts which extend from the north-east to the south. The piece of ground enclosed within the ramparts is of a triangular form, the eastern line being formed by the waters of the Severn. Coming suddenly into a deep moat without the ramparts, one is as suddenly confronted by a sentry, marching with a soldier-like air, a guard-room, or rather a guard tent, and a number of the guard lounging about.

Immediately in front of the guard tent, there is a gap, cut right in the angle of the encampment, and looking through this the whole of the tents and their occupants within are at once visible, presenting to the visitor a lively and picturesque scene, of which, two minutes before, he could have had no perception.

[...] The weather has been glorious throughout the week, but the heat, which would be exceedingly oppressive in town, is rendered delightful here, with a stiff fresh breeze flowing across the water. Each day the men have worked and drilled with a subordination that would be creditable even to a soldier of long service, and order has been maintained night and day. Heavy gun drill has been gone into most zealously, and some good practice has been made [...]

Ghost stories are not wanting in the guard room, for one good reason. On the north-east are the ruins of an old Roman chapel known as the chapel of the Holy Trinity, and no doubt was connected with the Roman encampment. Sundry remains of the genus homo in decay have been found in this spot, although the outline of the graveyard which adjoined the chapel has been effaced. A sentry is posted in the vicinity of the old chapel, and more than one have felt a chill creep over him during the still hours; but it is unnecessary to mention the little rumours which have currency during the last couple of days.

I have forgotten to mention that the immediate vicinity of the camp is called Sudbrook, and also that the advantages of the spot were utilised as a place to land, conceal, and protect his soldiers by Oliver Cromwell before he stormed Caldicott Castle. The place is in the highest degree classic and historic ground, and is well worth visiting.[...]

From the Western Mail, 4th August 1871.

The Druid’s Circle is situated two miles from Raphoe at Beltony. It is composed of sixty seven stones all standing erect in a circle.
South of this circle there is a large stone where all the victims were hung for there is a trace of a chain on it.

From this circle a giant threw a large stone to Nagherahane where a giant’s grave now lies. Another grave is to be found in Mrs Craig’s land. On top of it there is a large stone standing erect.
There is gold to be found at the Druid’s Circle. Many tourists came from Derry to dig for the gold but found none.

Adjacent to this circle there is the ‘Old Wind Mill’ where a number of giants were buried.
The druids worshipped the sun or fire Bael teine – “fire of Bael”.

Giants’ graves are numerous in Ireland so that shows us there were a great many giants in olden times.

Molly McClean (age 14)

Collected for the Schools Collection of the 1930s, now being transcribed at Duchas.ie.

Within 20 perches of where I live in Ballyglass is a Druidical circle formed of a big pile of stones each about 10 cwt. To the North of this circle is something like a rude altar composed of stones and also to the South end of the altar is another one.

Antiquarians who visit this place describe it as where the Druids offered up their sacrifice to their Gods in pre Christian times. Outside the Northern end of the circle are huge stones sunk in the earth and separated from each other. Antiquarians describe them as graves which are marked by these huge stones. Notwithstanding that it is of Druidical Origin the local people hold it very sacred and wouldn’t interfere with it for their untold lives.

An old man who once lived in the vicinity of the Druidical Circle found himself on a Sunday morning without a razor to shave himself to go to Mass. It been on a fine Summer’s day instead of going to Mass he entered the Druidical Circle and knelt down on a cromlech which is supposed to be the grave of some chief and said his prayers as he could not attend Mass. When he had his prayers said he lay down on the cromlech and fell asleep. When he awoke he found a razor by his side. It was so good that it would shave all the people in Mayo without an edge.

For about a hundred years it was an heirloom of the family until some young man stole it some years ago.

Collected by Thomas Pryal from Andrew Pryal in the 1930s, for the Schools Collection (now being transcribed at Duchas.ie.

Tlachtga is an important site in many early Irish sources, incorporating several strands of Irish mythology. The site is reputedly named after a druidess, the daughter of the quasi-mythical sun-god figure Mog Ruith, named in another tale as the executioner of John the Baptist.

According to Geoffrey Keating’s History of Ireland, Tlachtga was one of four great fortresses (along with Tara, Teltown and Uisneach) built by the high king Tuathal Techmar following the creatio of the kingdom of Mide in the early decades of the first millennium AD. Each of these fortresses was constructed from part of an existing kingdom: Uisneach from Connacht, Tlachtga from Munster, Tara from Leinster and Teltown from Ulster.

Tlachtaga was strongly associated with the festival of Samhain. It was reputed to be the site of the ‘Fire of Tlachtga’ which was used to summon ‘the priests, the augurs and druids of Ireland’ to assemble on Samhain eve in order to ‘consume the sacrifices that were offered to their pagan gods’. It was decreed that all fires within the kingdom on that night were to be kindled from the Fire of Tlachtga, under penalty of fine. In recent times the tradition of a Samhain gathering on the hill has been revived, and fire once again burns on Tlachtga on Samhain eve.

In 1167 Tlachtga was the site of the last of the reform synods to be held under Irish kingship. Presided over by Ruiadri Ua Conchobair, the last high king of Ireland, 13,000 horsemen are said to have attended, along with provincial kings and key ecclesiastical figures of the day, including Gelasius of Armagh, St Laurence O’Toole of Dublin and Cadhla of Tuam. Five years later, in 1172, Tigeman Mor Ua Ruairc, king of Breifne for over 40 years, was slain on the hill ‘by treachery’ following failed negotiations with Hugh de Lacy regarding the succession of Meath to the Anglo-Normans. Later still, both Owen Roe O’Neill (1643) and Cromwell (1649) are reputed to have encamped on the Hill, accounting for some of the disturbance evident at the site today.

From ‘Heritage Guide no. 63: The Hill of Ward: A Samhain site in County Meath.’ (Archaeology Ireland, December 2013).

The Hill of Slane overlooks a key fording point of the River Boyne, with clear views of the Hill of Tara and Skryne to the south. Little is known of the hill’s prehistory, although geological work suggests that some stone for the Bru na Boinne tombs came from here.

A large enclosed mound hidden in the wood on the hill’s western edge is classified as an Anglo-Norman motte. The nature of its enclosure and its association with a possible ring-barrow suggest that it originated as a prehistoric monument. Herity has compared it to other large mounds, such as that at Rathcroghan, and has stressed its possible ritual significance.

The hill was first associated with a life of St Patrick written by the seventh-century hagiographer Muirchu, who described the saint’s journey from the mouth of the River Boyne and the lighting of the paschal fire at Fertae Fer Feic (’grave-mound of the men of Feic’). A central figure in the story is Erc, first bishop of Slane, who was linked with an area containing Fertae Fer Feic and Slane.

Cathy Swift has shown that the antiquarian James Ware linked Fertae Fer Feic with the hilltop, although souces suggest that this place may have been elsewhere along the Boyne Valley. Swift stresses, however, that early medieval mounds, churches and forts were often connected with legal centres. The Hill of Slane contains both an enclosed mound and an important church site documented as an important legal centre from the eighth century AD, with links to French monastic sites. Therefore, while Slane is unlikely to have been the site of the legendary paschal fire, it has important links to the Patrician story.

From Matthew Seaver and Conor Brady’s “Heritage Guide No. 55: Hill of Slane” (Archaeology Ireland, December 2011).

There are several big Kairnes of Stone on the East-side this Island [ South Uist ], and the Vulgar retain the antient Custom of making a Religious Tour round them on Sundays and Holidays.

From

‘A description of the Western Islands of Scotland‘ by M. Martin, 2nd edition, 1716.

You can see some pictures of the stone on Canmore.

There is another [stone] at the Key, opposite to Kirkibast, 12 foot high: the Natives say that Delinquents were ty’d to this Stone in time of Divine Service.

From

‘A description of the Western Islands of Scotland‘ by M. Martin, 2nd edition, 1716.

The most remarkable Stones for Number, Bigness, and Order, that fell under my Observation, were at the Village of Classerniss; where there are 39 Stones set up 6 or 7 foot high, and 2 foot in breadth each: they are plac’d in form of an Avenue, the breadth of which is 8 foot, and the distance between each Stone six; and there is a Stone set up in the Entrance of this Avenue: at the South end there is join’d to this Range of Stone a Circle of 12 Stones of equal distance and height with the other 39. There is one set up in the Centre of this Circle, which is 13 foot high, and shap’d like the Rudder of a Ship: without this Circle there are 4 stones standing to the West, at the same distance with the Stones in the Circle; and there are 4 Stones set up in the same manner at the South and East sides.

I enquir’d of the Inhabitants what Tradition they had from their Ancestors concerning these Stones; and they told me, it was a Place appointed for Worship in the time of Heathenism, and that the Chief Druid or Priest stood near the big Stone in the center, from whence he address’d himself to the People that surrounded him.

From

‘A description of the Western Islands of Scotland‘ by M. Martin, 2nd edition, 1716.

The Thrushel Stone in the Parish of Barvas is above 20 foot high, and almost as much in breadth. There are three erected Stones upon the North side of Loch-Carlvay, about 12 foot high each. Several other Stones are to be seen here in remote places, and some of them standing on one end. Some of the ignorant Vulgar say, they were Men by Inchantment turn’d into Stones; and others say, they are Monuments of Persons of Note kill’d in Battel.

‘A description of the Western Islands of Scotland‘ by M. Martin, 2nd edition, 1716.

If you had £3m you could have bought the house that owns the land this stands on. It would be nice to overlook the Puggie Stone from your windows. I wouldn’t say no.

Scarcely half a mile above Holy-street, a tor rises near the river’s brink on the south side, called, by the country people, the Puckie, or Puggie Stone, and celebrated for the large rock-basin, or pan, (as it is popularly called,) on its summit. The antiquary, trusting to local report, will be disappointed when after having succeeded in scaling the rock, he finds that the characteristics of the genuine rock-basin, as described [on p.29] are not sufficiently clear to enable him to pronounce, that this is not one of the examples, attributable exclusively to the operation of natural agencies. Although of large size, it is not of the usual circular form, nor do its sides display any decisive indications of artificial adaptation. But if disappointed in the main object of his research, the explorere will be repaid for his escalade, by the commanding view he will have gained of the wild-wood glen down which the Teign rushes, foaming along its rock-bound channel, in all the youthful vigour of a mountain-born torrent.

For the means of examining this basin, as it can only be reached by a ladder, I am indebted to the kindness of Mr. Nicolas Clampit, the hospitable occupier of the interesting old mansion at Holy-street, one of the Forest tenants.

Samuel Rowe’s ‘Perambulation of the antient and Royal Forest of Dartmoor and the Venville Precincts’ (1848). You’d think he would like the fact the basin’s not ‘real’ and natural. You’d think he might like that someone deliberately adjusted it (c.f. druid sacrifices). If anyone even did. I would like it either way, natural or artificial.

‘Puckie’ surely has to have connections with the piskies – like ‘puck’. (Though a ‘puggy’ was a word for a squirrel far away in eastern England).

JLW Page (in his ‘exploration of Dartmoor and its antiquities’ 1889) says “This isolated stone is certainly the largest single mass off the Moor, though some of the blocks under Combe Farm, at the entrance of the Teign Gorge, rivals. It has a length of twenty-five feet, a breadth of eleven, and is no less than fourteen feet in height.”

[There is] the tradition that “Bowerman” lived in the locality at the time of the Conquest. He must have had something peculiarly striking in the pattern of his nose! Still we like to keep our “Bowerman” as a personality, and feel hardly grateful to modern learning, which comes down upon us with ponderous weight and says we have ignorantly corrupted the Celtic name of Vawr Maen, the Great Stone.

From ‘Dartmoor and its surroundings: what to see and how to find it.’ by Beatrix F Cresswell, 1900.

Historic England’s website mentions the alternative name of Roundago, so I guess this is the place. It says ‘the round was first depicted on the 1840 Tithe Map when it still had a massive stone outer wall with an entrance to the south and a colonnade of stones which led to an inner circular enclosure. When described by Blight in 1865, the inner enclosure could hardly be traced and the avenue had been removed. However, the ramparts were still massively constructed.‘

Unfortunately, not a few of the hoary remains of an unlettered age have been wilfully or ignorantly destroyed, although some owe their preservation as much to the lasting superstitions of the people as to their remote positions, apart from the haunts of man. The following story will shew that some ojections still remain in the popular mind against interfering with these ancient stones. Farmers find the rude crosses, which are still very numerous in Cornwall, extremely convenient as gate-posts, and to that use many of them have been brought. Such an one set his labourer to sink a pit for a post, but when the pit was finished and the labourer weas told that the cross standing in the field, a little distance off, was to be placed in it, the man absolutely refused to have any hand in the matter; not, be it said, on account of the beautiful or the antique, but for fear of “the old people.”

Another farmer related that he had a neighbour who “haeled down a lot of stwuns called the Roundago, and sold ‘em for building the docks at Penzance. But ne’er a penny of the money he got for ‘em ever prospered, and there wasn’t wan of the hosses that haeled ‘em that lived out the twelve-month; and they do say that some of the stwuns do weep blood, but” --reluctantly-- “I don’t believe that.”

From ‘Cornwall Pre-historic and Present’ by C G Harper in ‘Architecture’ v2, pp176-184 (1897).

In the grounds of the Lodge, which command a fine view of the Thames, St George’s Hills and Kingston Vale, is a mound, marked as the King’s Standinge on the oldest extant map of the Park, dated 1637, the year of its first enclosure. This quaint name, the real meaning of which cannot be determined, is supposed to have reference to the legend that Henry VIII. stood upon the mound to watch for the going up of the rocket which was to announce to him that the head of Anne Boleyn had fallen, and, in deference to this tradition, care was taken when Sidmouth Wood was planted not to intercept the view from the mound, by leaving a clear space, through which the dome of St. Paul’s can be seen on exceptionally clear days, between two rows of trees that some years hence will form a fine avenue. Unfortunately, however, there is really no more historic foundation for the romantic story connected with the King’s Standinge-- Henry having been far away from Richmond on the day of the unfortunate queen’s death -- than for the even more improbable supposition that Oliver’s Mount takes its name from Oliver Cromwell having witnessed from it a battle between the Royal and Parliamentary forces, no struggle having taken place that could possibly have been seen from Richmond Park.

From ‘The Royal Manor of Richmond, with Petersham, Ham and Kew’ by Mrs A G Bell (1907).

From ‘Hell’s Gate’ we ascend to ‘Heaven’s Gate’ and so win our way to the brow of the Wrekin, 1,335 feet above the sea. ‘There is on the Toppe of this Hill a delicate plaine Ground, and in this plaine a fayre Fountaine,’ wrote Leland, the antiquary, long ago. No water is to be found there now except such as collects, from time to time, in the ‘Raven’s Bowl,’ a cup-like depression on the top of a conical outcrop of rock, know as the ‘Bladder, (or Balder’s) Stone.’ At the foot of this rock there is a deep, narrow, crooked cleft, yclept the ‘Needle’s Eye.’ Now the fable goes that, if any young maid dips her foot into the Raven’s Bowl, and then ‘threads the Needle’s Eye,’ by scrambling through the cloven rock, she will be married within a twelvemonth, ‘so sure as there’s acherns in Shropshire.

Acherns = acorns? From ‘Nooks and Corners of Shropshire’ by H T Timmins (1899).