Rhiannon

Caesar’s Well, the chief source of the Ravensbourne, is situated near the entrance gates to Holwood Park. Mr Hone’s interesting “Table Book,” written in the year 1828, contains an account of a visit paid, in company with his friend W--, to the source of the Ravensbourne. At the time of that visit it would appear that the spring was known locally as the “Bath.” In the time of Mr Pitt’s residence at Holwood it was much used as a bath, and its waters were supposed to be possessed of valuable medicinal properties. Hasted’s plan of the camp at Holwood (pub. in 1778) shows the well or bath, and twelve trees are represented as growing close round its margin, and there are appearances of steps leading down to the water.

[..] The name Ravensbourne is commonly supposed to take its origin from the following tradition. When the Roman soldiers were encamped at Holwood there was great need of water. A raven was seen to frequent a certain spot near the camp, and upon close examination a small spring was discovered among the bushes. Upon digging out the place a copious spring was found, and from the accident which led to that discovery it is supposed the stream took its name.

Definitely some confusion – a raven would definitely help the native Britons, not the Romans! And of course the camp is not Roman at all, though that’s surely what I believed when I went paddling about in this spring as a kid. Only parts of the camp’s ramparts remain. There is a gap on the western side near the spring: the record on Pastscape seems to imply this was the main entrance.

From Antiquarian Jottings relating to Bromley, Hayes, Keston and West Wickham, in Kent, by George Clinch (1889).

A tale of strange fairy cows, that usually live (obviously) under the sea. Traigh Niosaboist is the beach immediately near the chambered cairn.

Several generations ago a herd of cows came ashore at Nisabost, which then formed part of the farm of Luskentyre, in South Harris. In order to prevent their return to the sea, if possible, the natives got between them and the shore, and drove them inland with the assistance of such weapons as lay ready to hand. It was discovered that even handfuls of sand thrown between these sea-cows and the shore checked their return to the sea. In many respects these particular animals resembled ordinary Highland cattle, although they were known to dwell under the sea, and to feed on the sea-weed called meillich in the Gaelic. Some of them broke back to the sea: others settled down at Luskentyre.

From The peat-fire flame by Alasdair Alpin MacGregor (1937).

There doesn’t seem to be much if anything left of the stones of the dun wall here at Balephuil, according to Canmore. But it was built in a very well protected spot, on a corner of a rocky stack sticking out into the sea.

I like this story a lot.

One night toward the close of the eighteenth century, when a certain Dugald Campbell was tending the cows belonging to the farm of Baile-phuil, on the coast of Tiree, a small, red cow came among the herd. The Baile-phuil cows immediately proceeded to set about it with their horns. When it fled, they followed it. Dugald joined in the pursuit, during which, as he himself testified, the little, red cow at one moment seemed to be quite near him, and at another moment very far off. The chase was brought to an abrupt end when the little, red cow entered the face of a rock, and thus disappeared from view, never to be seen again by human eye.

In relating this incident, Dugald Campbell insisted that he had the greatest difficulty in preventing the Baile-phuil cows from following the intruder into the face of the rock.

From The peat-fire flame by Alasdair Alpin MacGregor (1937). The cow of course is a red fairy cow, one of the cro sith which you might find on Tiree.

There is a folk-tale still told in Tiree of how an islander, when crossing the machar near Kennavarra, came within sight of [a cu sith, or fairy dog] crouching by a sand-dune, and immediately altered the direction in which he was making for home. Reflecting on this sinister spectacle the following morning, he resolved to put his courage to the test, and re-visit the sand-dune. Upon the sand at this point he discovered the imprints of a dog’s paws, “as large as the spread of his palm.” The imprints he traced for some distance, until they came to an end. He saw no dog anywhere, nor any beast likely to have left marks of this kind; and so he concluded that the object he had seen the previous evening was not of earthly origin, and must have been a faery dog.

From The peat-fire flame by Alasdair Alpin MacGregor (1937). As he explains, they are a creature of ill omen and move swiftly and noiselessly. They bark three times, ‘and there is usually a fair interval between each bark, which gives to the terror-stricken hearer a chance of making for safety before he hears the third bark. Otherwise he is liable to be overtaken and destroyed by the faery dog’. Just to warn you.

Canmore’s record for the fort (in the area of Ceann a’ Mhara) is here.

Everywhere, in the Highlands, the red-deer are associated with the Fairies, and in some districts, as Lochaber and Mull, are said to be their only cattle. [...] In other parts of the Highlands, as in Skye, though the Fairies are said to keep company with the deer, they have cows like those of men. In Skye, Fairy cattle are said to be speckled and red (crodh breac ruadh), and to be able to cross the sea.

It is not on every place that they graze. There were not above ten such spots in all Skye. The field of Annat (achadh na h-annaid), in the Braes of Portree, is one. When the cattle came home at night from pasture, the following were the words used by the Fairy woman, standing on Dun Gerra-sheddar (Dun Ghearra-seadar), near Portree, as she counted her charge:

“Crooked one, dun one,
Little wing grizzled,
Black cow, white cow,
Little bull black-head,
My milch kine have come home,
O dear! that the herdsman would come!”

Superstitions of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, by J G Campbell (1900).

To complicate matters, MacGregor (The Peat-Fire Flame, 1937) mentions this story, but also another which is clearly based in exactly same area, and has the same rhyme, but this time the fairy cows are being called back to the sea, rather than to the Dun:

[...] the faery cows that once came ashore at the Great Rock of MacNicol, on the farm of Scorribreac, in Skye. On this occasion, the entire herd was intercepted in its attempt to return to the sea, by the scattering of earth on the strip of land separating it from the water. In the Highlands and Western Isles it was held that a sprinkling of earth taken from a burying-ground was most efficacious in such circumstances.

Toward the evening of the day on which the faery cattle came ashore at Scorribreac, a voice from the sea was heard calling them back by name. And the names by which they were called were taken down at the time. These names, of course, were in the Gaelic; and the Gaelic rhyme by which they are remembered is still known among those interested in these matters. The rhyme illustrates, moreover, that these faery cows varied considerably in colour. One was brown; and another was black. There was a red one, and a brindled one, and so on. In response to the voice from the sea, the whole herd ultimately returned to its watery element.

Alleged offspring of the thorn, a long way from Wearyall Hill, but still in Somerset, just west of Crewkerne.

”Pulman’s Weekly News says that a piece of the original Glastonbury Thorn is growing in the garden of a cottage between Hewish and Woolmingston. For several years past, the tree – or, rather, a small bush – has been visited at midnight on Old Christmas Eve by people who vow that the bush actually blossomed while they were watching it, and became bare again shortly afterwards.

On Friday night, the number of ‘pilgrims’ to this shrine was at least 200 – from Crewkerne, Misterton, and other places – and those who came to scoff remained – if not ‘to pray’ at least to be convinced of the wonderful phenomenon. They say that at half-past eleven not a sign of a flower could be seen, but that at midnight every twig of one side of the bush was covered with delicately-tinted May light blossoms.”

This paragraph appeared in a Crewkerne paper, and was copied, among others, by a Yeovil paper having a circulation of some 25,000 copies in Somerset and the neighbouring counties. Strange to say, however, it has not been contradicted nor even queried so far as I have been able to ascertain. The natives seem quite capable of “swallowing” the above and a great deal more about “the holy thorn.” This notice in a scientific journal may be the means of causing some of your curious readers to endeavour to throw a little light on this superstition or phenomenon – whichever they may decide it to be. -- W. Macmillan, Castle Cary.

From Hardwicke’s Science Gossip, 1877, v8, p95.

Ah, you will say, but isn’t this a castle motte? Well it is, but as the scheduled monument record allows, the mound was dug into in the 1840s, and it’s thought that it was built onto a handy mound that already existed, a barrow.

Mr. W. Beamont, in a paper read before the Lancashire and Cheshire Historic Society, on the “Fee of Makerfield,” etc., in March, 1873, says, – “On the west side of this rivulet” (the Golbourne brook), “where the red rock rises above it, there is scooped out a rude alcove or cave, which the country people assign to Robin Hood [...]“. The stream near Newton has been blocked by an earthen embankment, and the “Castle Hill” now overlooks a beautiful artificial lake, with three branches. Robin Hood’s cave, alas! had to be sacrificed; four or five feet of water now placidly flows over the site of its former entrance.

[...] The writer further informs us that the “Castle Hill is said to be haunted by a white lady, who flits and glides, but never walks. She is sometimes seen at midnight, but is never heard to speak.

The Rev. Mr. Sibson adds -- “There is a tradition that Alfred the Great was buried here, with a crown of gold, in a silver coffin.”

From On some ancient battlefields in Lancashire by Charles Hardwick (1882).

I thought this massive split boulder on the beach at Fionnphort much more striking than the standing stone down the road. It deserves a story and it looks like it’s got a few. It’s quite different stone from the famous pink granite of the area.

I asked a local fisherman about the split rock so obvious on the beach at Fionnphort, which is known to tourists as ‘Fingal’s Rock’. The locals call it rather more curiously ‘The Swordstone’, and it does appear cleaved clean in two by a sword – the story goes that around 1870, the quarry had a lifesaving contract cancelled on a dubious quality control claim. This led to protests, the novel result of which was packing a crack in the rock with gunpowder and splitting the block in two, a symbol of the historical division between local loyalties and higher, vested powers in Scotland.

That unlikely tale is from the Stone Country blog. Or there’s the story that it’s to do with giants throwing stones at each other, as you can read at the website of the nearby Seaview B+B. Fingal’s Cave is only a reasonably-priced boat trip out to Staffa, you know, maybe that’s the inspiration for the connection. Mmm Staffa.

There are local traditions of a battle fought here by the Scots supported by cairns in Scotsburn Wood and by the name Lochan a’ Chlaidheimh, sword loch.

From Easter Ross by Alexander Polson, 1914.

An 18th century visitor tries to communicate the atmosphere:

Roche-Rocks (so called from the neighbouring village of St. Roche) are situated in the midst of an open heath, half a mile south from the road leading through Bodmin to Truro, and about six miles from the former place. The country around is naked, barren, and dreary almost beyond conception.

[...] A pile of rocks starting abruptly out of a wide green surface, and covering some space with enormous fragments on which there are only a few vestiges of incipient vegetation, form a singular scene, exhibiting a kind of wild sublimity peculiar to itself. Some of them are full sixty feet in height, and on a projection in one part stands a small Gothic building to all appearance very ancient, and tradition reports that it was once the cell of a hermit.

volume 1 of William Maton’s “Observations relative chiefly to the natural history, picturesque scenery, and antiquities of the western counties of England, made in the years 1794 and 1796.”

Moist semi-oxygenated particles of iron, it is well known, have an agglutinating power; – the AGGLESTONE, therefore, which is composed of ferrugineous sand-stone, appears to me to have been formed on the spot, and there can be no necessity for supposing that the Druids (if it be true that it is a Druidical monument) would bring so enormous a mass from a distance. --

This extraordinary insulated rock, is situated on the heath, not far from Studland, and is about eighty feet in circumference, at a medium, the height being about twenty. It is somewhat in the shape of an inverted cone. The spot whereon it stands is raised like a barrow. This circumstance occasioned the conjecture that it was erected as a monument to some British chief, interred below. Whether it was intended for a sepulchral memorial, or whether the heap of earth was thrown up only to render the top of the rock accessible, the name Agglestone (from the Saxon halig-stand, i.e. holy stone) certainly seems to shew that it was erected for some superstitious purpose.

The country people call it the Devil’s night-cap, and there is a tradition that his Satanic Majesty threw it from the Isle of Wight, with an intent to demolish Corfe Castle, but that it dropped short here!

From volume 1 of “Observations relative chiefly to the natural history, picturesque scenery, and antiquities of the western counties of England, made in the years 1794 and 1796” by William Maton.

Strange Newes From Hereford.

Sir,
My kind love and service remembred unto you and your good wife, these are to let you understand of a strange thing which happened in the Wergins upon Wednesday was sennight in the day time about 12. of the clock, a mighty wind did drive a Stone as much as 6. Oxen could well draw six-score, and ploughed a furrow a foote and a halfe deepe all the way it went, and another Stone which 12. Oxen did draw to the Wirgins many yeares since, that Stone being farre bigger then the other Stone, was carried the same time a quarter of a myle, & made no impression at all in the ground, but the Water was in the Medow a foote deepe. The bigger Stone was round and a yard and a quarter over, and about a yard deepe, the lesser Stone was a yard and halfe in length, and was made fast upon the other Stone untill the wind, and I know not what did part them, there was a man of Mr. Iames Seabornes, which was riding to Hereford, did see one of the Stones going, and as he relates, a blacke Dog going before the Stone, the man was a great distance of and put in a greate feare, other Market people doe relate it, because I would write the truth unto you, I ridde this morning to see the Stones, and as I could guesse the Stones to be carried the same distance which I have written unto you, I presume you knew the Wirgins, it is the way as we ride to Sutton, and the stones were brought to the Wirgins long since, for a Marke to know the way. All your friends here are in good health, and we wish the like to you and yours. Thus praying to God to mend these miserable times, I cease.
Your loving friend,
William Westfaling.
Hereford, Febr. the 23. 1641.

From an appendix in Memorials of the Civil War by the Rev T W Webb (v2), 1879. Apparently this strange incident was seen as one of a number of strange portents ‘attended to with intense interest and dread’ that occurred in the period leading up to the war, as the Rev explains here.

... we reach the little village of Treen, the inhabitants of which seem to be nearly all either guides to, or entertainers of, visitors to the Logan Rock, or, as its name was always formerly, the Logan Stone. This block of granite weighs about ninety tons, “yet any one, by applying his shoulder to the edge, and favouring the vibrations, can easily cause the stone to log through a very sensible angle.”

The Logan Stone, in fact, requires management, and a knowledge of its disposition, in the person attempting to rock it. On the day we visited it, one of the guides made it vibrate for several minutes by merely pressing his back against one end, whereas four gentlemen, strangers, exerted all their united strength without succeeding in making the stone move in the least degree.

This stone was thrown down, in 1824, by some seamen, but was afterwards raised again into its original position by order of the admiralty. It is said that it does not rock so well now as it did previously to its overthrow, and its appearance is certainly injured by the stone underneath it having been broken off at the edges in the process of re-erection. This stone is finely situated on the top of one of the cliffs in the narrow promontory of rocks which juts out into the sea beyond Treryn Castle. This promontory consists of three separate groups of rocks, extending nearly in a line from the castle to the sea.

The Logan Stone is situated on the island side of the middle group, and on the rocks opposite to it, nearer the castle, are two large rock-basons, about fifty yards asunder. That to the east is formed like a sofa, is about fourty inches wide, and is called the Giant’s Chair. The other is known as the Giant’s Lady’s Chair, and the tradition is that they would repose for hours in these easy seats, lovingly conversing with each other.

Treryn castle and these rocks were formerly inhabited by three giants, one lady and two gentlemen; but the latter quarrelled, I presume for the possession of the fair one, and one of them “stabbed the other in the belly with a knife,” to use the words of my informant, an octogenarian who evidently believed the tale. After this occurence, the two remaining members of the party lived happily there for many years.

This is the only Cornish tradition I have met with in which a female giant is introduced. The introduction of the incident of stabbing with a knife, the Anglo-Saxon and old English term for dagger, seems to indicate that this tradition is of great antiquity. There is a cavity underneath one of the rocks here which is called the Giant’s Cave.

Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

The village herbalists and rural advisers have not entirely fallen into disrepute. Many are the remedies, some no doubt beneficial, recommended by them. The use of some, however, are equivocal. Thus rheumatism is attempted to be cured by a “boiled thunderbolt;” in other words, a boiled celt, supposed to be a thunderbolt. This is boiled for hours, and the water then dispensed to rheumatic patients. I know not whether it be a libel that one old woman, who employed this remedy, used to express her astonishment that, keep the saucepan on the fire as long as she would, none of the celt would ever boil away.

J O Halliwell-Phillipps reporting in Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants (1861).

Hither, on the first Wednesday in May, are still annually brought crippled or maimed children. At that period a bath is formed in front of the well by stopping up the course of the little stream with pieces of turf. Each child is stripped, and then made to drop a pin into the well itself, previously to being immersed three times in the bath. My informant, a native of the parish, told me that he had hardly, if ever, known the process to fail in giving relief. He also told me that the well was sometimes called the Giant’s Well, – a title that seems inconsistent with the attribution of such great virtues.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O HAlliwell-Phillipps (1861).

On the next hill, the dreary one of Bartinney, is a monument of somewhat similar description [with a vallum and ditch], but it is in a sad state of ruin and nearly overgrown with turf and furze. The wide vallum that surrounded it can, however, be distinctly traced, as may be also the three circular enclosures near the centre, all mentioned and figured by Borlase.

There is a tradition that there were rows of seats on the inner side of the vallum, and that games or plays were performed in the centre.

According to another, hence came the giants of Bosworlas Lehau, when they were inclined for a little recreation.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

From Tresvenack we crossed the fields and moor in the direction of Mousehole, to visit another stone [..] preserved in a field adjoining the farm-house of Chyanhall. This is a block of unhewn granite, irregularly shaped, nine feet in eight, eight feet in circumference near the base, but tapering towards the top in a wedge-like form.

It now answers the ignoble purpose of a rubbing-post for the cattle; but that it was not one originally is clear, not only from its large size, but from the tradition of the neighbourhood that it is a memorial belonging to very ancient times. The labour of moving and erecting such large blocks preclude, as a general rule, any such supposition. A very old man at the farm informed me that it had been there all his days, and had always been spoken of as a stone erected by “the ancient people.”

Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

.. the celebrated stone circle called the Dawns Men, the Dance Stones, or, popularly, the Merry Maidens. This is a very perfect circle of nineteen stones which average about three feet and a-half in height above the ground, the circle itself being nearly seventy feet in diameter.

There are various country traditions which account for the existence of these stones. Some say that they were maidens who were transformed into stones for dancing on the Lord’s Day. Others assert that a man is buried under each stone. All, however, agree that the stones are placed there by supernatural agency, and that it is impossible to remove them.

An old man at Boleigh, who informed us that a farmer, having removed two or three of the stones on one occasion, was astonished to see them in their old places the next morning, was evidently displeased at the account being inconsiderately received with a smile of incredulity.

Another story respecting them is, that an attempt to drag them out of their places, although a vast horse or oxen power was engaged, utterly failed, and that the cattle employed in the task fell down, and shortly after died.

[...]

The Dawns Men were no doubt so called by the country people because the stones are placed in the order in which persons arranged themselves for an ancient dance, termed Trematheeves, which continued in vogue in Cornwall as late as the last century. Hence also probably originated the legend above mentioned; although it is to be observed that similar tales are current elsewhere to account for such-like circles of stones in Wales and other countries.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

A few minutes’ walk from the Fogou, immediately after passing the wretched little hamlet of Boleigh, brings the tourist to the two remarkable stones called the Pipers; giant musicians turned into stone for playing on the sabbath to the dance at which the Merry Maidens were similarly transformed.

The pipers are two huge pillars of granite, about three hundred yards asunder, and are conspicuous objects in the surrounding locality. Another tradition reports that they mark the site of a final victory obtained by Athelstan over the Cornishmen; but, unfortunately for the probability of this, there is no good evidence to show that he was ever in this county.

They are figured in Borlase, p. 164. Sometimes they are called the Giant’s Rocks, and are stated to be the sepulchral memorials of two giants; and occasionally the Giant’s Grave, as if they were the head and foot stones of the sepulchre of one giant.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

The grid reference may be fractionally out, but these rocks are definitely somewhere in the wood – hopefully next to the public footpath!

Trevella Carn, between two and three miles from Newlyn, is an object worthy of a walk. After passing through Newlyn on the Paul road, take the way to Buryan through the small hamlet of Sheffield, after passing which the first turning to the right leads direct to Trevella. The carn is situated a little to the right of the road.

Its summit is over nearly perpendicular rocks, at the bottom of which is a large cavity, formed by a large rock leaning against the main part of the pile, known by the country people as the Giant’s House. On the top of this carn are several rock-basons.

Mmm rock basins. From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

Another little folklore snippet is that in William Bottrell’s long story in ‘Traditions and Hearthside Stories’ called ‘The Dwelling of Chenance’, he mentions that “people say, you know, that the devil’s huntsman and his hounds have often been seen (after hunting Trevella and Mimmis carns) to come down over the moor and vanish in the Clodgey pool. So maybe that might have been a local tale too. Mimmis Carn is eluding me, though H-P says it’s ‘a little distance from this carn, nearer St. Paul’. He says ‘upon it is a disposition of a rock in the form of a seat, called the Giant’s Chair. Near this was an ancient circle of upright stones, which was removed about twenty years ago.‘

About half-a-mile to the south of Carn Kenidjack is an ancient stone circle, about sixty feet in diameter, consisting of twelve upright stones, which are on the average three feet in height above the surface of the ground. The country people generally call this circle of stones the Merry Maidens.

The map calls the area ‘Nine Maidens Common’.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell Phillipps (1861).

Bosworlas Lehau, the flat stones of Bosworlas, called by the country people the Giant’s Quoits, are about two miles beyond the monuments last named [at Trannock Downs]. They consist of several very large granite rocks, on the tops of which are numerous rock basons. Borlase, p. 180, mentions “a natural logan-stone in the large heap of rocks called Bosworlas Lehau;” but this is no longer to be discovered. The same writer says that the country people called the largest rock-bason at Bosworlas, a circular one six feet in diameter, the Giant’s Chair. Another one, of a similar kind, in the neighbouring rocks at Bosavern, was also said to have formed a seat for a giant. The Giant’s Chair is still shown at Bosworlas, as are also the Giant’s Table, and his steps leading up into the chair. Bosworlas Lehau looks at a distance as if it consisted of one immense flat piece of granite on the top of a large carn.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by James Orchard Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

Shortly before reaching New Bridge, – in a field known as the Barn Field, which is next the road on the left-hand side, adjoining some new farm-buildings called Tremayne, – are two memorial stones between nine and ten feet asunder. The largest is of unhewn granite, irregularly shaped, six feet in height, and averaging about seven feet in circumference. The other stone, nearer the road, is still more irregularly shaped, and tapers nearly to a point at the top. This one is five feet and a-half high above the ground. These stones are figured by Borlase, ed. 1769, p. 164, together with a plan of their position in respect to a grave discovered between them, the whole being termed by him a “sepulchral monument at Trewren in Maddern.”

Borlase informs us that, “upon searching the ground between these two stones, October 21st 1752, the diggers presently found a pit six feet long, two feet nine wide, and four feet six deep. Near the bottom it was full of black greasy earth, but no bone to be seen. This grave came close to the westernmost and largest stone, next to which, I imagine, the head of the interred lay.”

The tradition of the locality is that the stones mark the grave of a warrior.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

In the Tenement of Lanyon stand three Stones-erect on a triangular Plan. The shape, size, distance and bearing, will best be discerned from the plan and elevation of them (Plate XIV. Fig. I. and II.) The middle Stone (A) is thin and flat, fixed in the ground, on its edge, and in the middle has a large hole one foot two inches diameter, whence it is called the Men an Tol (in Cornish the holed Stone); on each side is a rude Pillar, about four foot high; and one of these Pillars (B) has a long Stone lying without it (C), like a cushion, or pillow, as if to kneel upon. This Monument as is plain from its structure, could be of no use, but to superstition. But to what particular superstitious Rite it was appropriated is uncertain, though not unworthy of a short enquiry.

[...] It is not improbable, but this holed Stone (consecrated, as by its structure and present uses it seems to have been) might have served several delusive purposes. I apprehend that it served for Libations, served to initiate, and dedicate Children to the Offices of Rock-Worship, by drawin gthem through this hole, and also to purify the Victim before it was sacrificed; and considering the many lucrative juggles of the Druids (which are confirmed by their Monuments) it is not wholly improbable, that some miraculous Restoration of health, might be promised to the people for themselves and children, upon proper pecuniary gratifications, provided that, at a certain season of the Moon, and whilst a Priest officiated at one of the Stones adjoining, with prayers adapted to the occasion, they would draw their infirm children through this hole.

It is not improbable, but this Stone might be also fo the oracular kind; all which may, in some measure, be confirmed by the present, though very simple, uses, to which it is applied by the common people.

When I was last at this Monument, in the year 1749, a very intelligent farmer of the neighbourhood assured me, that he had known many persons who had crept through this holed Stone for pains in their back and limbs; and that fanciful parents, at certain times of the year, do customarily draw their young Children through, in order to cure them of Rickets. He shewed me also two brass pins, carefully layed a-cross each other, on the top-edge of the holed Stone. This is the way of the Over-curious, even at this time; and by recurring to these Pins, and observing their direction to be the same, or different from what they left them in, or by their being lost or gone, they are informed of some material incident of Love or Fortune, which they could not know soon enough in a natural way, and immediately take such resolutions as their informations from these prophetical Stones suggest.

From the alternately imaginative and sceptical sounding William Borlase’s 1769 Antiquities, Historical and Monumental, of the County of Cornwall.

In the neighbourhood of the castle may be traced the obscure remains of several specimens of the edifices generally termed British huts. The country folks call them “the huts of the old people,” – a traditional name agreeing with the results of recent investigation. Upon excavating one of them, there were found a small quantity of charred wood, a great number of burnt stones, and as many fragments of pottery as filled a small bason.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

The dimensions of the cap-stone are thus given by Borlase: – “This quoit is more than forty-seven feet in girt, and nineteen feet long; its thickness in the middle on the eastern edge is sixteen inches, at each end not so much, but at the western edge it is two feet thick.”
The cromlech is sometimes called by the country people the Giant’s Quoit, and occasionally the Giant’s Table. My measurement made the covering-stone forty-six feet in circumference, with a thickness varying from ten to eighteen inches. It is not improbable that the stone has been chipped off at one or two of the corners since the time of Borlase. Between the cromlech and the road are the remains of a stone and earth circular barrow about eighteen feet in diameter.

There is an odd tradition that the first battle fought in England was decided in the locality of Lanyon Quoit.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants by J O Halliwell-Phillips (1861).

The hill on the left-hand side is noted as having once had on its summit that “notable treble intrenchment of earth called Lescaddock Castle, that name referring to Cadock, earl of Cornwall, whose broad camp or castle of war it was, as tradition faith.” Some write the name, Lescudjack, and others, Lesgud-zhek; the latter explained by Borlase as the “Castle of the Bloody Field.” The provincial name of it was “The Giant’s Rounds.” The only portion of this fortification now remaining is a large raised circular mound, enclosing several fields. The mound is nearly perfect, and there is a pathway outside it which was probably the site of the original intrenchment.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants, by J. O. Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

At a quarter of a mile from Sennen is the hamlet of Mayon, an insignificant assemblage of a few cottages, only deserving notice as containing a celebrated block of granite, three feet thick, with a flat top measuring about seven feet by six, called Mayon Table. The stone is at the back of a small blacksmith’s shop, and the tradition is that seven Saxon kings, about the year 600, paying a visit to Cornwall to see the Land’s End, dined at this table. Ethelbert, king of Kent, was one, and the most celebrated of the sovereigns at this the earliest recorded picnic at the Land’s End.

According to another version of the tradition, only three kings dined at the Mayon Table on that occasion; and there is a prophecy of Merlin to the effect that a larger number of crowned heads will one day be assembled at dinner around this rock previously to some great catastrophe, or to the destruction of the world itself.

From Rambles in Western Cornwall by the Footsteps of the Giants, by J. O. Halliwell-Phillipps (1861).

A hunter was pursuing a deer one day. Over hill and dale he chased, never getting any nearer to it, although he repeatedly galloped faster. At last, drawing his bow, he shot an arrow at it, exclaiming, “Should you be the devil himself I will pursue thee till eternity.”
The deer struck by the arrow halted at the entrance of the dolmen and turned into a maiden of dazzling beauty.
“Have thee thy wish,” she cried. “Thou shalt hunt for ever.”
She vanished and the huntsman, it is said, may still be seen careering madly on a white horse, bow in hand, after an invisible quarry.

Another story relates to the days of Druidism.
It was the custom of this particular sect of Druids to offer up to the sun human sacrifices two or three times a year. Usually the victims were criminals or prisoners captured in war.
On one occasion the larder of victims was bare – not a criminal, not a prisoner of war. One of the priestesses who did the butchering was a young and lovely girl.
“No victims,” she said. “Then you shall have my youngest brother.”
Screaming with horror the boy was placed on a flat altar stone in the mouth of the dolmen and the priestess sharpened her knife in anticipation of the cruel deed entrusted to her.
The boy pleaded in vain for his life.
“Were you God himself I would kill thee,” his sister said.
Just as she was about to plunge her knife into his helpless body, he cursed her.
“May your soul be doomed to haunt this spot for ever,” he cried.
Quite unmoved, she ripped his stomach open and then calmly and slowly cut his throat.
She did not survive him long. For her impious words and in fulfilment of his curse she was doomed to haunt for ever the Fairy Rock.

Tradition also has it that round the rock, with hands clasped, lovely fairy girls used to dance and sing nightly, when the moon was full and the stars shone brightly. On one occasion a country swain stood watching them and was so enraptured that he knelt down and worshipped them.
“Go home,” they cried, “and see what awaits there.”
He tore himself reluctantly away, and went home to find to his great surprise, a large box full of gold coins, a gift from the fairies. He was a rich man.
He spent his money quickly and when it was all gone, he visited the Fairy Rock night after night, but he never saw the fairies again.

Certainly not the usual Victorian language, but still revelling in Druidic gruesomeness: The Midnight Hearse and more Ghosts by Elliott O’Donnell (1965).

Mr. C. E. Ponting writes that in 1889 he noticed that this hill appeared from the Pewsey Vale of a bright yellow colour, caused by a mass of yellow Ladies’ Fingers (Lotus corniculatus?) in flower, with which the whole hill was covered. He suggests that this is the origin of the name.

Possibly not so comprehensively explained as the other idea on this page. Some may think it more convincing. But where’s the ball.

In the Wiltshire Arch. and Nat. Hist. Magazine for 1897 (v24).

Yet another boulder with a name in the vicinity of Bourtie and its circles. A report from the Boulder Committee of the Royal Society of Edinburgh (1872) mentions it:

Boulder, about 20 tons. Longer axis E. and W. Called “Bell Stane,” the church bell having once hung from a post erected in it.

There’s a picture on the Canmore website which shows it in 1902, and calls it The Bell Rock. And on a 25” map from 1900 it gets called Bellman’s Stone, so it has a variety of similarish names to choose from. Maybe someone should go and tap it to see if it’s really called the Bell Stone because it rings. Or, since we’re in Scotland, could it even be a Bel stone like Beltane. I mean maybe you would ring a bell from it, though you’d think it’d be better to ring it from the church itself – it seems a bit like a convenient way to Christianise it perhaps. Ah the realms of speculative folklore etymology.

Perhaps, unless we except the so-called “Druidical” Standing-stone in Balinoe, the oldest memorial in Tyree, older even than the Culdee Churches, is the Clach a Choire, the ringing-stone – literally the “kettle” stone- which stands a little removed from the shore near Balephetrish, not far from the old marble quarries. It is a mass of stone, roughly cubical, balanced upon one edge, and computed to weigh about ten tons. When struck, no matter where, or however slightly, it sends forth a clear ringingnote. The people have a tradition that the stone is hollow and contains gold, but happily they have also another tradition to the effect that when the ringing-stone is cleft, Tyree will sink. On the surface of the stone are some thirty circular indentations, which I think most persons familiar with such things in other places, would unhesitatingly suppose to be cup-markings, but which, it is only fair to say, are also explained away as traces of many years of experimental stone-tapping. Apart from the fact that it seems hardly likely that even in the course of ages, native curiosity would compass so prominent a result, there is nothing to differentiate this rock from others admittedly “cup-marked” elsewhere, and they are found in great numbers in the British Isles and in Scandinavia.

From The Outer Isles by A Goodrich-Freer, 1902.

I rather like the wording of this earlier commentary on the rock:

At Balphetrish there is the famous Ringing Stone. Its dimensions are 7 feet by 6 square, and 4 1/2 feet thick. It is of a dull grey colour, very hard and compact, and totally different from the surrounding rocks. It is evidently spotted with stars of black mica. Its hardness is so great that it is not possible with a common hammer to break off even the smallest bit. It is not intersected by any vein or cutter. Its solidity and equal texture must account for the clear metallic sound, for when struck on any place with a stone or a hammer, it sounds or rings like brass or cast iron. It has for ages past excited the admiration of the common people.

It excites my admiration too and I’d definitely like to see it, but I would try to resist trying to break a bit off.
From The Scots Magazine volume 60 (1798).

Sensigl or Senigl means ‘Ox-eye daisy’. But the field looks a bit devoid of them in the photos. Maybe there’s some further up the hill.

Following on from Fitzcoraldo’s quote, it says:

According to another account, the stones do not actually represent the Apostles, only ‘it is allowed that the Apostles put them there’! and it was the farmer himself who wished to take away all the stones, but was stopped by the proprietor.

This is a report from the Rev. W.C. Lukis, who’d been sent on a Survey of various megalithic monuments of Scotland, Cumberland, and Westmoreland in the summer of 1884. The sort of mission I’m sure many contributors here would have been quite happy to assist with.

Cubbie Roo’s castle is just over the sound on the little Isle of Wyre. S Cruden rather confidently suggests in The Scottish Castle (1960) that

This name is certainly a corruption of Kolbein Hruga, Kubbe or Kobbe being a Norse term of familiarity for Kolbein.

There’s lots more at the lovely Orkneyjar site which tells about this giant’s exploits. There’s an article disputing any connection with a real Norse person, that the ‘Kolbein Hruga’ thing is all of a muddle. But I think that’s not so important is it... he’s clearly a bit more than an ordinary person in the stories. Maybe his ‘Burden’ is the stones that he dropped, rather like the Devil’s Burdens elsewhere?

The Orkney Book (“for young Orcadians”) says the giant’s name “is even yet used to terrify into good behaviour some obstreperous youngster, in the awful threat, “Cubbie Roo’ll get thee!” ”

Some background (what little there is) on the saint after whom the stone is named. And it’s a big stone, it needs a name. From the second edition (1956) of Butler’s Lives of the Saints.

In the churchyard of Llanfan Fawr (i.e. Great Avanchurch), in the hills a few miles north-west of Builth Wells in the county of Brecknock, is an ancient tombstone bearing the inscription Hic Iacet Sanctus Avanus Episcopus: “Here lies Saint Avan the Bishop.” The existence of this stone, which naturally arouses the interest of the visitor or reader, is the sole reason for mentioning St Afan here, since nothing whatever is known about his life. The lettering is said to be not older than the end of the thirteenth century, but St Afan certainly lived long before that: by some he has been identified with a holy Afan, of the house of Cunedda and a kinsman of St David, who lived during the early part of the sixth century and was the leading holy man of his district, being known as Afan Buellt, i.e. of Builth. According to the local legend he was put to death by Irish raiders.

The following is related by Gerald the Welshman in the first chapter of the first book of his Itinarary through Wales: “In the reign of King Henry I, the lord of the castle of Radnor, the territory adjoining Builth, went into the church of St Afan (called Llanafan in the British tongue) and rashly and irreverently spent the night there with his hounds. When he got up early the next morning (as hunting men do) he found his hounds mad and himself blind. After living for years in darkness and misery he was taken on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, for he took care that his inward sight should not similarly be put out. And there, being armed and led to the field on horseback, he spurred upon the enemies of the faith, was mortally wounded, and so ended his life with honour.”
An anecdote which tells us something about the religious ideas of the twelfth century, but unfortunately nothing about St Afan.

I beg to differ: it tells us that not unreasonably he didn’t like dogs in his church. And maybe he didn’t like hunting either. Anyone who is prepared to go blind into battle can’t be very sensible anyway.

The Rev. Baring Gould (Lives of the British Saints) says Afan

..is traditionally said to have been murdered by Irish pirates – by Danes, according to another account – on the banks of the Chwefri, and that the tomb here marks the site of his martyrdom. In the neighbourhood are a brook called Nant yr Esgob*, a dingle called Cwm Esgob, and a small holding called Derwen Afan (his Oak).

*Bishop

Naturally this camp hasn’t really anything to do with the Danes, but is a hillfort from the Iron Age. When some of the site was excavated in the 1990s, various earlier artifacts were found too, so it’s known the promontory was being used in the Bronze Age and Neolithic too. It’s right on the cliff overlooking the Thames, so it only has earthworks on three sides. The SMR says “The site offers a clear vantage point onto the river, and wide views across the flood plain into Berkshire.” This attractive spot wasn’t overlooked by more modern settlers either, so that is why there is now a hotel there. Alas when the house was built c1900, they just flattened the western banks entirely and bunged the building on top. Apparently “A short section of the inner bank and ditch survives as earthworks to the south of the mansion, adapted in the early 20th century to serve as a rock garden with an ornamental walkway.” So that’s handy isn’t it. You can even be taken on a tour of the gardens this summer, as part of the National Gardens Scheme.

My attention was drawn here by a totally unprehistoric but weird bit of folklore, about the Uncorrupt Hand of St James. Yep that’s (allegedly) St James the apostle himself, Jesus’s mate – here in Buckinghamshire. Who’d have thought it. His hand used to be kept in a chapel that was right here in the fort (the chapel, along with another house, got knocked down to be replaced by the present Danesfield House). Once upon a time it was kept in Reading Abbey and was a big draw for pilgrims. And today it resides at St Peter’s church in Marlow, and you can see it there for yourself. There’s a colour photo on Elizabeth Chadwick‘s blog, if you’ve got the stomach for it. I was reading about some of its adventures here in a 1901 book called ‘Memorials of Old Buckinghamshire’, by P H Ditchfield. So, not prehistoric. But says something about how we give meaning to and value the ancient past perhaps.

The Cornwall HER says that traditionally, people used to stroll out here after their Sunday lunch (= after church?). And why not. Surely they might like to yet (despite the doubting of the HER).

Tom Thumb (so the 1621 pamphlet by Richard Johnson goes) was a very tiny person “of the bignes of my thumb.” He was born to a ploughman and his wife – they’d specifically asked Merlin for a bit of assistance, and the birth was attended by the queen of the fairies. “After some boyhood adventures appropriate to his size and character, he is eaten in succession by a cow, a giant, and a fish, by which means he ends up at King Arthur’s court (the fish having been caught for Arthur’s table).” He sits at the round table and is the king’s companion, and goes out riding with him. “For more than a century, the tale of Tom Thumb was the most widely known and popular version of the Arthurian legend in circulation in England”. Which seems quite strange now. The Tom Thumb stories have international parallels too.

Later, Henry Fielding wrote a satirical book in which Tom was a giant-killer, and there was lots of murder and love-intrigue. Later on he became a more child-friendly figure.

(quotes and info. from ‘Tom Thumb and Jack the Giant-Killer: Two Arthurian Fairytales?’ by Thomas Green, in
Folklore , Vol. 118, No. 2 (Aug., 2007), pp. 123-140.)

But what does this have to do with the rock? Is it just supposed to be amusing because Tom Thumb is tiny and the rock is massive? Or is it related to his giant-slaying days? The rock gets a slight blob on the map in the 1870s, but only gets its name marked in the 1970s. The HER suggests that this means the name is quite recent (it being English too). But who knows.

More juicily, the HER says “There is a piece of oral folklore associated with the rock that suggests it was used as a place for sacrifice at the time of the St Just feast.” Those druids eh. Though I don’t know what they were doing following the Christian calendar. I notice that the St Just festival “was always held on the nearest Sunday to All Saints-day”* so maybe the druids were celebrating more of a Samhain thing instead. All a bit muddled up but never mind.

*Cornish Feasts and ‘Feasten’ Customs – M A Courtney, The Folk-Lore Journal v4 (1886).

Part of a letter in the ‘Royal Cornwall Gazette’ on March 18th 1869:

... the rock rests at the bottom of the quarry, precisely as it stood in its former proud pre-eminence; and the sacrificial basins, lips, and channels, described by Borlase, may now be seen as they have probably existed for two thousand years. I saw it yesterday in deep grief and mortification, for I am a Cornishman, and have Constantine blood in my veins. I don’t here mention the tradition that exists throughout this district against him who injures this Tolmen. I would rather believe that his own reflections will be sufficient punishment for the irreparable loss he has occasioned to the antiquities of Cornwall.
F.G.S.

I have taken the stone’s grid reference from an 1880s map which shows its ex-location.

Ceidio, in the promontory of Lleyn, is under the remarkable isolated hill of Carn Madryn, which takes its name from Madrun. The local tradition is that on the burning of the palace of Gwrtheyrn, under Tre’r Ceiri, Madrun fled with Ceidio, then a child in arms, to the fortress on Carn Madryn; and that later in life Ceido founded the church that bears his name beneath the mountain.
[...]
About half a mile east of Rhayader, in Radnorshire, there is a barrow, in a field called Cefn Ceidio, under which it is supposed that he has been buried.

Lives of the British Saints, v2, by Sabine Baring-Gould and John Fisher (1908).

A clue to the name in the 18th century Statistical Account of Scotland:

Towards the end of the last century, a man was burnt for a wizard, at the foot of the Gloom Hill, not many yards from the town of Dollar.

Zealous Antiquaries, strange to tell, have not yet succeeded in manufacturing the Standing Stones of Torhows into pigsties and byres ‘for their better preservation,’ as they have done with most Galloway antiquities; and so they stand there yet, and enduring testimony to the authenticity of the ancient traditions of the district.

In my young days there used to be four stones standing on the high side of the road, and twenty three on the low side of it, and they were arranged in a circle.

The tradition about them was that in those ancient times the Picts, when hard pressed, formed themselves into a ring and defended themselves in that way from attacks on all sides, and as soon as they saw a weak place in the ranks of the enemy, they lengthened the ring into a triangle or wedge and forced a way through their opponents; and it is recorded that the Galloway men or Albanich as they called themselves, who were the descendants of the Picts, fought in a wedge-shaped phalanx at the battle of the Standard in eleven hundred and something.

Well, it happened that the Picts at Torrhows were like to be beaten at one time, and were obliged to form a circle, and there was a most desperate struggle till the king came up with assistance, and a great many of the chiefs or great men, who fought in the front rank, were killed by the Danes.

When the battle was over and they assembled to bury the dead, a great stone was set up wherever any of the chiefs fell fighting, to mark the spot, and it is said that there were originally sixty stones, one for every chief killed, and the place was therefore called Torrhows, which means something about a bur[y]ing-ground, though I never heard it said that any of the chiefs were buried at the stones.

It was said at one time that the Laird was going to hoke them all up to send to Edinburgh, to try if they would give him F.S.A. to put to his name, but I think it hasn’t been done yet.

A not altogether serious account from Galloway Gossip by Robert Trotter (1877).

[Having crossed the Ochils and descended to the moor below..] The whole moor was covered with a luxuriant crop of bent and heath, and while surveying the modest blossom of the latter, we could not help heaving a sigh for the many brave hearts which had sunk there to “fill a nameless grave.” After having made a circuit of the scene of the battle, we directed our steps to a number of large stones, almost in the centre of the field, and upon which, tradition avers, the Highlanders sharpened their broadswords, dirks, and axes, the evening previous to the engagement. Indeed, from the appearance of the stones, one would be led to suppose as much, for they are all more or less scratched, as if they had been acted upon by these warlike weapons; but, judging from the date of the battle, it surprised us how these marks could remain so long without suffering from the effects of the weather, situated as the stones are in a cold moorland district, where the snow lies long, and where they are beat upon by every blast that blows. If these marks have been occasioned by what tradition says, they will, in all likelihood, remain for many years to come.

One of the stones is called the “Belted Stane,” from a grayish sort of belt encompassing it. A few inches still remain between the two extremities of the belt; but we are informed that this space has become gradually less within these fifty years, and the credulous peasantry around are in the firm belief, that as soon as

The twa ends o’ the belt embrace,
A bluidy battle will tak’ place.

A pertinent question is, how did these stones come to be placed in their present situation? They are of great size, and must have been carried a considerable distance. There is no tradition as to their being of Druidical origin.

In The Scottish Journal, 1848. Has the belt joined up I wonder. And how scratched does the poor thing look.

In the vicinity of the village of Dunlop, writes Chalmers in 1824, “there was in former times a chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mary [..] After the Reformation, this chapel was allowed to fall in ruins, but the remains of it are still to be seen on the side of a small rivulet which was here crossed by stepping-stones called the Lady’s Steps, and this name is still continued altho’ the steps have been superseded by a bridge.” (Caledonia, vol. iii. p 556.)

[..] In a field in the neighbourhood is a large detached stone, round which, if tradition is to be believed, it was customary for persons attending the chapel to perform part of their devotions. It is called the Thugart Stane, supposed to be a corruption of the grid stane. This stone, the name of which is by the inhabitants of Dunlop commonly pronounced “Ogirtsane,” is composed of a variety of trap rock, differing from the trap formation in the surrounding country. What appears of it above the surface measures about 12 feet by 8, and its greatest height is about 4 feet.

From ‘the Church of Dunlop’, a chapter in Archaeological and Historical Collections relating to the counties of Ayr and Wigton, v4 (1884).

“Grisly Draeden sat alane
By the cairn and Pech stane;
Billy wi’ a segg sae stout,
Says – ‘I’ll soon turn Draeden out’ -
Draeden leuch, and stalk’d awa,
And vanish’d in a babanqua.”

This rhyme, which I picked up when a boy from an old man (David Donaldson), who posessed a rich collection of old sayings, songs, and rhymes, which I never heard anywhere else, evidently relates to a large cairn which was situated about half-way between two streams (Draeden and Billyburn), on the farm of Little Billy, in the parish of Buncle. The cairn was surrounded, except on the south-west side, by a circle of large whin stones, many of which would have weighed several tons. At the distance of about 200 yards to the east of this cairn stood a large block, of a reddish sort of granite, which the old man already mentioned used to call “The Altar.” The cairn is now removed, but this stone still stands in its original situation.

It is probable that the circle of stones surrounding the cairn had constituted, in remote times, a place of Druidical worship: and it is also probable that the small stream, a little to the north of the site of the cairn, derives its name Draeden, from this circumstance; the affix draed being similar in sound to Druid, and den, a dean or vale – The Druid’s Vale.

When a moss, which skirted this stream, was begun to be drained about twenty years ago, many pieces of oak were dug out; and I recollect of being shewn, near its northern extremity, a quagmire or babanqua, with a slit or opening in the middle of it, on which no grass or any other plant grew, owing to the constant oozing of the water from its bottom, and into which, it was said, a horse and his rider had sunk, and were never more seen.

[..] It is probable, I think, that this curious rhyme has some distant allusion to the introduction of Christianity into our island, to the discomfituer of a dark and horrid superstition, which formerly held in bondage the souls and bodies of our Pagan progenitors.

It is probable not, I think. But I do love how he spins pagan weirdness out of the elemental boggy environment. I can sympathise at least. From Mr Henderson’s reporting of ‘Popular Rhymes of Berwickshire’ in the Scottish Journal, 1848.

The Canmore site record calls this ‘The Witch’s Stone’.

On the top of the Craigs of Kyle there was, in former times, a chapel dedicated to Saint Bride. The only vestige of it now remaining is the well, which is still called Saint Bride’s Well. No notice is taken of this ancient place of worship in Chalmer’s Caledonia, or the Statistical Account of Scotland: but it is worthy of remark, from the existence of another remain of antiquity which has hitherto escaped the observation of topographical or antiquarian writers. This is a Rocking-Stone -- adding another to the many proofs, that the early propogators of Christianity invariably planted the Cross where the inhabitants had been in the habit of assembling under the Druidical form of worship.

The Rocking-Stone occupies the summit of the highest of the Craigs. It is an exceedingly large elongated block of granite, but must have been at one time much larger, as several pieces seem to have fallen from it through the action of the weather, being much exposed to the moisture and storms of the west.

We regret our inability to take an accurate measurement of the stone at the time of our visit, not having been aware of the existence of such a relic. Tradition is silen in reference to it, though it is pointed out as a curiosity by the people in the vicinity. There can be no doubt, however, of its Druidical character. Although it has now lost its vibrating power, being propped up by stones, the pivot is easily discernible.

From The Scottish Journal, 1848.

I’ve been puzzling about this, because there must be (or was) a stone called the Deil’s Cradle very near to this. I’ve been scouring the 25” maps without success, though the Wizard’s Stone is marked. Yet the WS, with all due respect, doesn’t look very exciting. It gets marked, while the infinitely more peculiar sounding Cradle sadly does not. I figure ‘Burngrens’ below is another version of ‘Burngrange’, which is on current maps – about a spit from the WS. If you were in the area and took a wander along the burn, you might find the stone yet? There’s a Grey (or Gray) Stone marked at Lawhill Farm, which is very close by too. But Coflein declines to comment on any of the three.

The “Deil’s Cradle.”
On the confines of the parish of Dollar, not far from Hillfoot, the seat of John McArthur Moir, Esq., lies a glen, called Burngrens, watered by a small stream, and planted with numerous large trees. A great number of these, however, have fallen, during the last few years, beneath the unsparing axe; but strong, healthy saplings are rising rapidly to supply their place.

In this glen there is a large stone, of peculiar formation, in every way like a cradle. It is currently believed by the superstitious in the vicinity, that the stone, every Hallowe’en night, is raised from its place, and suspended in the air by some unseen agency, while “Old Sandy,” snugly seated upon it, is swung backwards and forwards by his adherents, the witches, until daylight warns them to decamp.

The following rather curious affair is told in connection with the “Cradle:”

One Hallowe’en night a young man, who had partaken somewhat freely of the intoxicating cup, boasted before a few of his companions that he would, unaccompanied, visit the stone. Providing himself with a bottle, to keep his courage up, he accordingly set out. The distance not being great, he soon reached his destination. After a lusty pull at the bottle, he sat down upon the “Cradle,” boldly determined to dispute the right of possession, should his Satanic majesty appear to claim his seat. Every rustle of a leaf, as the wind moaned through the glen, seemed to our hero as announcing the approach of the enemy, and occasioned another application to fortifying “bauld John Barleycorn.” Overpowered at last by repeated potations, our hero, dreaming of “Auld Nick,” and his cohort of “rigwuddie hags,” fell sound asleep upon the stone.

His companions, who had followed him, now came forward. With much shouting and noise, they laid hold of him, one by the head and another by the feet, and carrying him, half-awake, to the burn, dipped him repeatedly, accompanying each immersion with terrific yells. The poor fellow, thinking a whole legion of devils were about him, was almost frightened to death, and roared for mercy so piteously that his tormentors thought proper to desist. No sooner had our hero gained his feet than he rushed up the glen, and ran home, resolving never to drink more, or attempt such a feat again. For many a long day he was ignorant who his tormentors really were.

We stood upon the stone about a week ago. Ivy and moss are slowly mantling over it, a proof that it is some considerable time since the Devil has been rocked on it.

J.C.

From The Scottish Journal, 1847.

Centuries ago, these hills were covered to their very summits with trees, consisting of pine, birch, hazel, but principally oak. Several trunks of this durable wood, black and hard as ebony, have been discovered deeply imbedded in the peat mosses which about there.

Wolves, boars, and other wild animals, were the inhabitants of this forest. Sometimes large troops of them, urged by hunger, left their haunts, and descending to the low grounds, spread devastation and dismay on every hand. Tradition tells of a boar, of huge size, which committed so many depradations, that the people complained to their king (Malcolm Canmore), who appointed a day for a grand hunting match, to destroy the boar.

The King, with a few attendants, took up a position on the top of a hill, still called the “King’s Seat,” there to await the issue of the hunt, while different parties beat the haunts of the animal. They were about giving up the search as fruitless, when the boar was discovered. Away through the forest dashed pursuers and pursued.

A youth, armed with a bow and quiver, and a short sword, outstripped the rest of the hunters. Three arrows from his hand had already pierced the bristly sides of the boar; but before another could be drawn, it turned upon its pursuer, and rushing towards him, bore him to the ground, inflicting a severe wound upon his breast. It was about to attack him again, when the huntsman drew his sword, and sheathed it in the body of the monster. The thrust was mortal, and it fell.

After cutting off the head of the boar, the youth, all bleeding, made his way to where the King sat – threw the grisly trophy at his feet, and immediately afterwards expired. But, as regards this,

“I cannot tell how the truth may be,
I say the tale as ‘twas said to me.”

J.C.
13, Dalrymple Place,
Edinburgh.

In The Scottish Journal, 1847.

Much giant related folklore connected with the broch:
The Scottish Journal, 1847.

The distance of the Hall from the Whitadder on the north, was two hundred yards, down a very steep bank. There is a deep hollow on the west, with a small run of water in it. This place has been sometimes called Woden, or Odin’s Hall, but for what purpose it was erected nobody can tell. It is now completely levelled with the soil, and most of the stones have been removed. In the tradition of the neighbourhood, Edin’s Hall is said to have been the residence of a giant – and Cockburn-Law, on the northern slope of which it stood, is reputed to have been the last place where the Picts made a determined stand in Scotland! G.H.

Transactions of the Hawick Archaeological Society, 1863.

The country people in this neighbourhood call it Edin’s Hold and Wodin’s Hall, and ascribe its erection to a freebooting giant, who long carried on a successful system of depredation, and shut up in this his place of power, effectually screened himself from the hands of justice

Proceedings at Meetings of the Royal Archaeological Institute, 1869.

..Edin’s Hall, which at that time present little beyond a green mound, with a little rough masonry visible here and there, in the centre of an extensive system of earthworks. Local tradition connected them with a certain giant who, “once upon a time,” made it his abode, and lived, as giants were wont to do, on his neighbours. Returning one day with a bull over his shoulders, he was incommoded by a pebble in his shoe, and jerked it to the side of the opposite hill, where it is still to be seen in the form of a good-sized boulder.

From Chambers’s Journal, v1 (1854).

The history of the building is totally unknown. The ordinary name is Eetin’s Hald; though usually presented in books as Edin’s Hall or Ha’. Antiquaries speculate on its having been a palace of Edwin, king of Northumbria in the seventh century – the same prince from who Edinburgh is supposed (altogether gratuitously) to have taken its name.

It is to be feared that here an obvious meaning of the name has been overlooked. The Etin, in old Scottish tradition, is a giant (from the Danish Jetten:) thus we hear in our early national literature, of the tale of the Red Etin. Sir David Lyndsay, in his Dreme, speaks of having amused the infancy of King James V. with ‘tales of the Red Etin and Gyre-carling.‘

Considering that the people of Lammermuir have a fireside story representing Eetin’s Hald as having been anciently the abode of a giant, who lived upon the cattle of his neighbours, and did not always respect their own persons – whose leap, too, they shew in a narrow part of the streamlet near by – it is rather strange that the name of the place has not been detected as meaning merely the Giant’s Hold.

From Robert Chambers‘ Popular Rhymes of Scotland (1826). There’s more about this giant in a later edition here, as well.

The red-etin is a monstrous personage, supposed by the common people to be so named on account of his insatiable penchant for red or raw flesh. [...] He is still a popular character in Scotland, and is supposed to go about searching for what he may devour, and constantly exclaiming, as in the story of Jack and the Bean Stack,
Snouk Butt, Snouk Ben,
I find the smell of Earthly men.

Snouk signifies, to search for with the nose like a dog or hog, and here communicates a dreadful idea of the personal habits of the Red-etin.

This typed compilation of information about the souterrain comes from the Highland HER. It seems that the names of the clans responsible for bad behaviour / revenge are fairly loose. I guess it depends on the ancestry of who’s telling the tale.

An excerpt from a booklet written in the 1970s says:

The cave [..] is thought to have formed a refuge for persecuted worshippers at various times in its history. There is also an old legend that it was built by giants while giantesses carried the soil to the River Spey in their aprons.

Again there’s the curious assertion that the cave was only discovered in the Victorian era, yet it’s simultaneously stated it was used after the Jacobite rising of 1745! Remember, things do not really exist until a Victorian man belonging to an Intellectual Society has looked at things Properly.