Rhiannon

There is a curious prophecy connected with a stone situated near the ruins of the chapel of Arnchly, and which is worth recording. From time immemorial this stone went under the name of the “Peace Stone,” and it was held in great reverence by the natives. One Pharic McPharic, a noted Gaelic prophet, foretold that, in the course of time, this stone would be buried underground by two brothers, who, for their indiscretion, were to die childless. By-and-by the stone would rise to the surface, and by the time it was fairly above ground, a battle was to be fought on “Auchveity,” that is, “Betty’s Field.” The battle was to be long and fierce, until “Gramoch-Cam” of Glenny, that is, “Graham of the one eye,” would sweep from the “Bay-wood” with his clan and decide the contest. After the battle, a large raven was to alight on the stone and drink the blood of the fallen. So much for the prophecy then; now for the fulfilment. About fifty years ago, two brothers (tenants of the farm of Arnchly), finding that the stone interfered with their agricultural labours, made a large trench, and had it put several feet below the surface. Very singular, indeed, both these men, although married, died without leaving any issue. With the labouring of the field for a number of years, the stone has actually made its appearance above ground, and there is at present living a descendant of the Grahams of Glenny who is blind of one eye, and the ravens are daily hovering over the devoted field. Tremble ye natives! and rivals of the “Hero Grahams,” keep an eye on Gramoch-Cam!

Something quite unusual – a cup marked stone with folklore. From ‘Summer at the Lake of Monteith’, by P Dun (1867).

[Cromlechs in North Wales] bear a great variety of names in popular speech ... that at Bodowyr (like the Bryn Celli Ddu chamber) is “The Cave” ... thus did the popular fancy play around these ponderous structures, of the real meaning and purpose of which it had long lost all knowledge.

From ‘Memorials of Old North Wales’ by E Alfred Jones (1913).

About a mile and a half from (Caherconlish) there is a high limestone hill called Knockeen, “little hill”. An old, old man, however, told me that the hill was properly Cnoc Fhinn, that is “the hill of Fionn,” and sadi he heard it was so called from its being the first place in county Limerick at which Fionn was seen after having slain the Ceannurran, “a Cyclops, or one-eyed giant,” near the Suir. [following this is a long story about Fionn.]

There are several caves in Knockeen through which one may penetrate the hill for long distances. The people say that one of these caves has an outlet in a curious looking hole called Poul Eyon, about two miles to the north-east, at the other side of the Mulkear, and not far from Brittas Castle. They tell a story about a dog having been thrown into Poul Eyon and coming out at Knockeen. Poul Eyon is a natural hole in a rock, about thirty feet in depth and fifteen in width. One may notice from the top openings into three caves at the bottom.

From an article about Caherconlish by J F Lynch, in the Journal of the Cork Historical and Archaeological Society v2 (!896).

“St. Declan’s stone” is on the beach; it is a large rock, resting on two others which elevate it a little above the ground. On the 24th of July, the festival of the saint, numbers of the lowest class do penance on their bare knees around the stone, and some, with great pain and difficulty, creep under it, in expectation of thereby curing or preventing, what it is much more likely to create, rheumatic affections of the back.

The sarcasm would be amusing if it wasn’t for the dismissive ‘lowest class’ remark?! From ‘The history, topography and antiquities of the county and city of Waterford; with an account of the present state of the peasantry of that part of the south of Ireland’ by R H Ryland (1824).

For more details, ideally you’d want the original of the following account from Philip Dixon Hardy’s ‘Holy Wells of Ireland’ (1836) but I can only give you the paraphrased version in Borlase’s 1893 ‘Age of the Saints’. The date of the shenanigans alters here, but if it was indeed in December, maybe a shot of whisky wouldn’t have gone amiss:

The festival of St. Declan was held at Ardmore, in the county of Waterford, on December 23. It was attended by several thousand persons of all ages and both sexes.

‘The greater part of the extensive strand which forms the western part of Ardmore Bay was literally covered by a dense mass of people. Tents were spread, each with its green ensign, for the sale of whisky. The devotional exercises were commenced at an early hour in the day, by passing under the holy rock of St. Declan in a state of half-nudity. Stretched at full length on the ground on the face and stomach, each devotee moved forward, as if in the act of swimming, and thus squeezed or dragged their bodies through. Both sexes were obliged to submit to this humiliating mode of proceeding. Upwards of 1,100 persons were observed to go through this ceremony in the course of the day [...]‘

[Hardy] describes the fair on the seashore – the tents, with food and liquor, and the cards, dice, wheels of fortune, and the like. The stone, which is on the margin of the sea, is, he says, of the same kind as the neighbouring rocks, and weighs some two or three tons. It is said to have been floated on the sea from Italy, crowned with nine bells, which came opportunely, as the priest was in want of a bell, and was about to celebrate Mass. Since then the stone has been venerated for its miraculous cures.

It is only at low water that people can go under the stone and perform their devotions there; they must always take advantage of the tide. On the Saint’s day it was always necessary to remove some of the sand which had accumulated under the stone, to make a sufficient passage for a large man or woman.

As the little rocks on which the stone rests form irregular pillars – like the supporting stones in a dolmen, in fact – it is necessary to have the surface under the stone lower than the front or rear. As a commencement the men took off hats, coats, shoes, stockings, and, if very large, their waistcoats, and turned up their breeches above the knee; then, lying flat on the ground, put in hands, arms, and head – one shoulder more forward than the other, in order to work their way through more easily – and coming out from under the stone at the other end (from front to rear being a distance of, perhaps, four feet) rose on their knees and struck their backs three times against the stone, removing beads and repeating aves all the while. They then proceeded on bare knees over a number of little rocks to the place where they had to enter again under the stone, and thus proceeded three times, which done they washed their knees, bodies, and dress, and made for [St. Declan’s well]. The women went through the ceremony in the same manner as the men, taking off bonnets, shoes, and stockings, and turning up their petticoats above the knee, so that they might go through the exercise on bare knees.

[…] In illustration of the strength of the popular devotion for St. Declan’s Stone, that priests had actually whipped the people from it, but they continued their superstitions in spite of them, and in consequence some priests were content to let things alone and wink at the practice.

Consistently with such a [supernatural] origin concerning this said Dyke, many and curious traditions are afloat. It is a weird, or wizard spot, upon its bank nothing of good omen happens. I have been told in perfect good faith, by one who dwelt near it, that on Grimsdyke the unhappy Jane Shore perished, being starved to death by King Richard’s order, a baker being also put to death for his compassion in offering her a penny loaf. A curious connexion in which to find an historic name, and showing how great names and tragic events are rumoured amongst the people, though often, as in this case, in a distorted shape. That fairies make fun or make mischief, that ghosts and spectres have peculiar liberty on the soil of the Dyke, is the current belief of the country gossips.

Jane Shaw, in the 15th century, was mistress to King Edward IV. A paranoid King Richard accused her of stuff but as far as I can tell (from a quick internet trawl) didn’t actually kill her off. Perhaps the story comes from another connected with ‘shoreditch’ in which, in a ballad, she dies.

Excerpt is from ‘Records of Buckinghamshire’published by the Buckinghamshire Archaeological Society, 1858.

In Notes and Queries (I. ix. 536) I find, “On the highest mound of the hill over Weston-super-Mare, is a heap of stones to which every fisherman in his daily walk to Sand Bay, Kewstoke, contributes one towards his day’s good fishing.”

The same superstition is mentioned by Mr. Jackson in his ”Visitor’s Handbook to Weston“: he gives the name of the mound as Peak Winnard.

On asking an old inhabitant of Worle if he knew the custom referred to, he replied that many a time he had thrown his stone upon the heap on his way from Worle down to the fishery at Birn-beck. Every one, he said, threw a stone, saying as he did so, “Pickwinna,” (or rather) “Peek weena,
Send me a deesh of feesh for my deener.”

Alas! the sprats have now forsaken Weston Bay and the sprat fishery seems likely to become a thing of the past. Had my old informant been alive he would, I doubt not, have ascribed their departure to the neglect of the due observance of Pickwinna.

From a letter by W F Rose in Somerset and Dorset Notes and Queries, v III, 1893.

There are at least seven round barrows on the overlooking ground close by, but the Fairy Stones are in a chalk valley below. They are weird brecca-y stones sticking out of the ground. One would imagine they are the home of fairies, but they have other uses:

The superstitious among men, in order to see their future love, would hie them to the fairy stones, at Burdale, and there, with the full moon brightly shining, at midnight, would see the one who should be all the world to them.

From ‘Folk Lore of East Yorkshire’ by John Nicholson (1890).

This silly story sounds like it could apply to Dunnabridge Pound, but the location doesn’t quite tally up. There are quite a few little enclosures in this area, so maybe it refers to one of those instead.

Mounting the steep bank we crossed the road, and passing up by the ruined buildings which were connected with Brimpts Mine, we pointed straight for Loughter Tor. On the slope of this tor, near the summit, is a kind of small cattle pound, an oblong enclosure with high walls, having a gateway on its higher side. It is jocularly reputed to have been constructed as ”a measure for sheep“! Instead of counting the animals they were driven within this enclosure, and as the exact number of sheep it would contain was known, when it was full all trouble of counting was unnecessary, and so it was said the sheep instead of being numbered, were measured!

From ‘Amid Devonia’s Alps’ by William Crossing (1888).

I learn from Mr. Robinson, of Hill House, Reeth, Yorkshire, that in his neighbourhood as in many others is a place called Maiden’s Castle, in which tradition avers a chest of gold is buried. “Many attempts,” he says, “have been made to gain possession of the treasure, and one party of adventurers actually came up to the chest and laid hold of it, when a hen appeared, flapped her wings, and put out the light. This occurred three times, and the men were obliged to desist. The next day was Sunday, still they returned to the place. A violent storm of thunder and rain came on, however, and the ‘drift,’ in miners’ phrase, ‘ran’. My informant, an old man of the place, knew this, he said, for a fact.”

From ‘Notes on the folk-lore of the northern counties of England and the borders’ by William Henderson (1879).

Who knows which barrow this could now refer to? it is / was somewhere on Ecton Hill, so near this cave. But it gives a flavour of the folklore that such places inspire.

In the digging open a Low on Ecton hill near Warslow in this County, there were found mens bones as I was told of an extraordinary Size, which were preserved for some time by one Mr. Hamilton Vicar of Alstonfield; and I was inform’d of the like dugg up at Mare in the foundation of the Tower; but these being buryed again, or otherwise disposed of before I came there, I can say little to them.

From Robert Plot’s ‘Natural History of Staffordshire’ of 1686 (hence all the italics.)

“The Stone House” is close to Acaun Bridge, in the field on the east of the river, below the bridge. The stone which forms the roof of the cromlech is about 14 feet in length, and was said to have been thrown by a giant, the mark of whose hand is still to be seen on the under side.

From ‘County Wicklow Archaeological Notes Around Kiltegan’ by C Drury, in the Journal of the Co. Kildare Archaeological Society and Surrounding Districts (1905).

In addition to the tale of a tunnel connecting this site and Caerau:

It is said to have been the abode of one IOAN ; but whether he was saint or sinner is not known. On one occasion it is said that, when pursued by the enemy, he crossed the stream, and left the impression of the hoof of his charger on the stone, which has something like the mark of a horse’s shoe upon it.

[..]

The old chronicler of Caerau, who used to say that he had been baptized by a vicar of St. Dogmaels (dead since 1768), and who had spent almost all his lifetime on the farm of Penrallt Ceibwr, was alive a few months ago. He told me that the whole neighbourhood was considered “fou.” That men were led astray there all night, not knowing whither they went until cock-crowing, when they discovered that they were not far from home (hence the white gate-posts). A man carrying a bundle of hoop-rods, in one of these midnight wanderings, dropped them one by one to ascertain the extent of his journey ; and when he went after them in the morning, he found he had travelled an incredible number of miles. A St. Dogmaels fisherman having been to a wedding at Moilgrove, lost his bearings on his way home at night, and was for some hours not able to find his course, until at last he fortunately discovered the north pole (? the polar star), by which he sailed homewards ....

This, however, cannot be said of them all; for an old clerical friend of mine of sober habits, had once the honour of joining in this magic dance for the great part of a night. All the land round Caerau was once unclosed, which may account, in some measure, for these vagaries.

From ‘The History of St Dogmael’s Abbey’ by Emily Pritchard (1907), who was actually quoting the Rev. Henry Vincent in Archaeologia Cambrensis, Oct. 1864. The book also mentions some local stoney folklore, about the Sagranus ogham stone, which served for ages as a bridge over the aforementioned stream and with a White Lady crossing over it at midnight, and no-one wanted to touch it after dark. Then it was mysteriously transferred to the vicar’s wall, and afterwards to the church.

In the road near Caerau, and opposite the second embankment (Caerau consists of three concentric, circular embankments within and above each other at intervals of about twenty yards ; with an elevation in the second of two feet, and in the third, or innermost, of four feet). There are some men living who remember these embankments much higher than they are at present ; particularly the innermost agger, which on the seaward side was about ten feet, is a hollow which rings when any wheeled vehicle goes over it. About eighty years ago two men had the curiosity to dig there, and they solemnly declared that they came to the frame of a doorway ; but when they went to dinner, the rain descended, accompanied by thunder and lighting, and on their return the whole was closed, as they supposed by supernatural agency. A little above the place where they had been digging they affirmed that there had been no rain.

At Castell Ion some stairs were seen, supposed to lead to some passage. A farmer’s wife about ninety years since, having risen very early one morning, was thus accosted by a woman bearing the semblance of a gipsy : ‘’ Would you like to take your rest of a morning instead of leaving your bed so early ? ” ” Yes,” was the reply.
” Then,” said the woman, ” if you dig in a certain spot in the subterranean passage between Caerau and Castell Ion, you will find what will make you the richest lady in the land.”

About sixty years ago a respectable man declared that he was cutting a hedge between Trefas and Pant y Groes when a grey-headed old man came to him and told him that there was an underground way from Caerau to Pentre-Evan ; and that if he excavated a certain place he would find two hundred ” murk ” (? marks).

A woman once appeared to a ploughboy and told him that there were ten murk under the threshold of Caerau Bach. When the cottage, which had been probably built on the site of the outpost referred to, was taken down, a number of people assembled to search for the marks, but none were found.

From Henry Vincent’s article on ‘Caerau in the parish of St Dogmells’ in Archaeologia Cambrensis, Oct. 1864.

The knock on the eastern boundary of the parish [of Alves] is crowned by a tower, from which an extensive view of the surrounding country and of Ross and Sutherland across the Moray Firth can be commanded. By tradition the knock is connected with the story of Macbeth and the witches. Possibly there may be some foundation for this, as the knock is on the road between Bothgownan and the Blasted Heath, the one by a curious coincidence being about three miles east of Elgin, and the other a similar distance from Nairn.

From ‘The Place Names of Elginshire’ by Donald Matheson (1905). (Foundation??)

I say, that in the memorie of some yet living, this Hoc-tide feast [to celebrate the death of king Hardicanute and the freeing of the English from Danish rule] was yearly solemnized by the best inhabitants, both men and women, in Hexton, in the fields and streetes, with strange kind of pastime and jollities. Some of their sports, and, namely, that of pulling at the pole, I will relate.

They did yearly, against everie Hock Day, elect two officers called the Hockers, a man and a woman, whose office it was to provide the hock ale, and to governa dn order the feast for that year; these hockers had each of them a large birchenn broome; and on Hock Monday morning which falls out, as I take it, between Easter and Whitsontyde, many, and amongst them the most substantial of them (for boyes and girles were not admitted) did go together to the toppe of Weyting Hill; on the very toppe of which hill, being the highest in this parish, was one of those borowes or grave hills (which now the mattock and the plow have worne down). And ther was yearlie a long and a very strong ashen pole fastened into the ground, which the women with great courage did assale and pull downe, striving with all their force to bring it downe the hill, which the men did defend pulling it up the hyll; but by reason of the great stepenes of the mountayne, the women, by that advantage, hayled it to the fote of the hill; and, though the men were so waggishe as that when they perceived the women to pull most stronglye, then, they would all wholy lett goe, wherby the women fell over and over; yet for that the women would not give over, and, when they had brought ye pole to levell ground, then some good fellowes would help the women, the hockers laying lustilye about them with their bromes, and allwayes the matter was so handled that the women overcame, thrusting the men into the ditches and into the brooks (the men hockers allwayes taking the womens parte); and if they got any of the weaker men into their hands whom they could master, them they would baffle and besmear, and thus they laboured incessantlye two or three houres, not giving over till they had brought the pole and sett it up at the Crosse by the Towne House doore, where a great number of people were attending their coming.

And then, the women having provided good cheere, they brought it into the Towne House, and did there all eate and drink together, and that without any affront or dislike taken at any hand. And, after they had eaten, then the hockers did gather money of everie one what they pleased to give, part of it then given to the poore, the remaining money the hockers delivered to the churchwardens, who lay’d out the same in the reparation of the Church and bells, and the like.

Francis Taverner, who lived in the first part of the 17th century, quoted in W B Gerish’s ‘The Hock-tide observance at Hexton in Hertfordshire’ (1910). Hocktide (debatably) falls on the second Monday and Tuesday after Easter. You can read some more about here, on ‘Wilson’s Almanac’:
wilsonsalmanac.com/hocktide.html

Apparently Roger Sherman Loomis, an Arthurian scholar, thought that Grassholm (Gresholm) was the location of ‘Gwales’, the place where Bran’s men stayed in the Mabinogion legend ‘Branwen the daughter of Llyr’.I don’t know how he came to this conclusion as I haven’t been able to find his argument yet.

And Bendigeid Vran commanded them that they should cut off his head. “And take you my head,” said he, “and bear it even unto the White Mount, in London, and bury it there, with the face towards France. And a long time will you be upon the road. In Harlech you will be feasting seven years, the birds of Rhiannon singing unto you the while. And all that time the head will be to you as pleasant company as it ever was when on my body. And at Gwales in Penvro you will be fourscore years, and you may remain there, and the head with you uncorrupted, until you open the door that looks towards Aber Henvelen, and towards Cornwall. And after you have opened that door, there you may no longer tarry, set forth then to London to bury the head, and go straight forward.

From the Lady Charlotte Guest translation, which you can see at the Sacred Texts Archive, for example.

Peculiar islandish goings-on are not unknown in the vicinity:

I venture to quote from the Pembroke County Guardian. Mr. Ferrar Fenton [..] writes in the issue of Nov. 1, 1896, giving a report which he had received one summer morning from Captain John Evans, since deceased. It is to the effect ‘that once when trending up the Channel, and passing Grasholm Island, in what he had always known as deep water, he was surprised to see to windward of him a large tract of land covered with a beautiful green meadow. It was not, however, above water, but just a few feet below, say two or three, so that the grass waved and swam about as the ripple flowed over it, in a most delightful way to the eye, so that as watched it made one feel quite drowsy. You know, he continued, I have heard old people say there is a floating island off there, that sometimes rises to the surface, or nearly, and then sinks down again fathoms deep, so that no one sees it for years, and when nobody expects it comes up again for a while. How it may be, I do not know, but that is what they say.‘

From ‘Celtic Folklore’ by John Rhys. A cynic might put it down to all the fertiliser coming off the island. But that’s not terribly romantic.

... the stupendous cleft in the rock between Swithamley and Warnford commonly call’d Lud-Church, which I found by measure 208 yards long, and at different places 30, 40, or 50. foot deep; the sides steeped and so hanging over, that it sometimes preserves Snow all the Summer, whereof they had signal proof at the Town of Leek on the 17 of July their Fair day, at which time of year a Wharnford Man brought a Sack of Snow thence, and poured it down at the Mercat Cross, telling the people that if any body wanted of that commodity, he could quickly help them to a 100 load on’t.

From chapter four of Robert Plot’s ‘Natural History of Staffordshire’ of 1686.

To come then forthwith to the subject in hand, the Natural History of the County of Stafford; the first thing I met with relating to the Heavens, and one of the first too that I heard of after I set to work in earnest, was a pretty rural observation, of late years made by some of the Inhabitants of the Town of Leek in the Moorelands, of the setting of the Sun in the Summer Solstice, near a Hill called the Cloud, about six miles distant, in the confines of Stafford-shire and Cheshire which appearing almost perpendicular on the Northern side, to such persons as are standing in Leek Church-yard, the Sun seems so nicely at that time of year to cut the Edg of it at setting, as in Tab. 1. Fig. 1. that notwithstanding what is taught by Astronomers, that the Sun whilst it occupies that Cardinal point, appears Stationary for some time without giving any sensible increase or decrease to the length of the days; they can plainly perceive by the help of this Hill, that no two days are equal, but that there is a sensible difference every day [...]

For when the Sun comes near the Solstice, the whole disk of it at first sets behind the Hill, after a while the Northern Limb first appears, and so every night gradually more, till at length the whole Diameter comes to set Northward of it, for about three nights; but the middle night of the three, very sensibly more remote, than the former or the following, when beginning its recess from the Tropic, it still continues more and more to be hidden every night, till at length it descends quite behind it again.

From Robert Plot’s ‘Natural History of Staffordshire’ of 1686 (hence all the italics.) More details of this peculiar phenomenon in the link below.

Fair enough, this might not refer to this particular rock. In fact it’s true to say that it probably refers to some random rock on the steep slope of the Creigiau Eglwyseg (Eglwyseg Rocks) below. But it shows you what the rocks are like round here.

Thomas Morris happened to be returning home from Llangollen very late on one Saturday night in the middle of the summer, and by the time he reached near home the day had dawned, when he saw a number of the Tylwyth Teg with a dog walking about hither and thither on the declivity of the Eglwyseg Rocks, which hung threateningly overhead. When he had looked at them for some minutes, he directed his steps towards them; but as they saw him approaching they hid themselves, as he thought, behind a large stone. On reaching the spot, he found under the stone a hole by which they had made their way into their subterranean home.

Maybe midsummer had something to do with the sighting.
From ‘Celtic Folklore, Welsh and Manx’ by John Rhys (1901).

Holywell Brook and Rorrington Hill are just south of the fort.

Of the ‘Halliwell Wakes’ at Rorrington (a township in the parish of Chirbury) and of others in the same district, I am able, thanks to the kindness of Sir Offley Wakeman, to give a much fuller account, gleaned from the old folk of Rorrington and its neighbourhood, who attended the wake in their youth.

It was celebrated on Ascension Day at the ‘Halliwell’ or Holy Well on the hill-side at Rorrington Green. ‘Are you going to the Halliwells on Thursday?’ one neighbour would say to another as the time drew near. The well was adorned with a bower of green boughs, rushes, and flowers, and a Maypole was set up. The people ‘used to walk round the hill with fife, drum, and fiddle, dancing and frolicking as they went,’ and then fell to feasting at the well-side, finishing the evening by dancing to the music of fiddles. They threw pins into the well, an offering which one old man, a blacksmith at Hope, says was supposed to bring good luck to those who made it, and to preserve them from being bewitched: and they also drank some of the water. But the pure spring-water was not the only, or the chief, material of the feast! Soon after Chirbury Wakes (St. Michael’s) a barrel of ale was always brewed on Rorrington Green, which on the following Ascension Day was taken to the side of the Holy Well and there tapped. Cakes were of course eaten with the ale. They were round flat buns, from three to four inches across, sweetened, spiced, and marked with a cross. They were supposed to bring good luck if kept. Several famous makers of them are remembered, by whom they were sold to all comers, together with nuts and so forth. The wake is said to have been discontinued about 1832 or 1834, at the death of one Thomas Cleeton who used to ‘brew the drink’.

It sounds like something well worth reinstating. This is from volume 3 of Charlotte Burne’s ‘Shropshire Folk-lore’ of 1886.

The Titterstone Wake [..] was not held till the last Sunday in August – the end of harvest. It was customary there for the young men and young women to ascend the hill in separate parties, going by different routes and meeting at a recognised trysting-place, whence they proceeded to a spot known as Tea-kettle Alley, sheltered by tall blocks of basalt, where the elder women made tea with the water of the adjoining spring. Then the boys climbed the Giant’s Chair, and sat repeating a ditty which, alas! cannot be recovered, but which probably conveyed a challenge or defiance. Fights and similar contests were, as has been said, favourite features of the old-fashioned wakes, and we often meet with some ceremony of challenging all comers for the championship. Moreover, there was reported to have been a battle of the giants (battle = single combat) on the Titterstone.

From Charlotte S Burne’s article in ‘Memorials of Old Shropshire’ by Thomas Auden (1906).

Wrekin Wakes, held on the first Sunday in May, were distinguished by an ever-recurring contest between the colliers and the agricultural population for the possession of the hill. This is said to have gone on all day, reinforcements being called up when either side was worsted.

The rites still practised by visitors to the Wrekin doubtless formed part of the ceremonial of the ancient wakes. On the bare rock at the summit is a natural hollow, known as the Raven’s Bowl or the Cuckoo’s Cup, which is always full of water, supposed to be placed there as it were miraculously, for the use of the birds. Every visitor should taste this water, and, if a young girl ascending the hill for the first time, should then scramble down the steep face of the cliff and squeeze through a natural cleft in the rock called the Needle’s Eye, and believed to have been formed when the rocks were rent at the Crucifixion. Should she look back during the task, whe will never be married. Her lover should await her at the further side of the gap, where he may claim a kiss, or, in default of one, the forfeit of some article of clothing – a coloured article, such as a glove, a kerchief, or a ribbon, carefully explained the lady on whose authority the last detail is given.

I like that, the ‘carefully explained’ bit, it sounds like it’s so people didn’t get The Wrong Idea. That might be just me though.

As I recall the Needle’s Eye is a bit of a squeeze.

From Charlotte S Burne’s article in ‘Memorials of Old Shropshire’ by Thomas Auden (1906).

More on the Wakes here:
wellingtonunderthewrekin.co.uk/#/pleasure-seekers-in/4520042348

Wild Humphrey Kynaston, a younger son of the Kynastons of Myddle Castle, who was outlawed apparently for murder, possibly for debt also, in 1491, [took refuge in the cave in Nesscliff Hill] in the Marches beyond the reach of English law. Once when he had crossed the Severn the Sheriff’s officers followed him, and removed some of the planks from Montford Bridge to cut off his escape; but he put his faithful horse to the leap and landed safely on the further side, where the King’s writ did not run. The wonderful leap was long kept in memory by marks dug in the turf on Knockin Heath, and popular tradition now tells of “Kynaston’s Leap” over the Severn, from Nesscliff Hill to Ellesmere, or even to the top of the Breidden Hill.

From Charlotte S Burne’s article in ‘Memorials of Old Shropshire’ by Thomas Auden, 1906.

Standing in a field, near Ty’n-y-seler, is a large monolith or maenhir 8 feet high, 5 1/2 feet wide, and 3 feet thick. Miss Emily David, Maesgwyn, informed me that it is said in the neighbourhood this huge stone goes each Christmas morning before cockcrow to drink in the sea.

...

Mr. Evan John, of Ty’n-y-Seler, recently told me of a large stone lying on Margam Moors, and of the tradition in the neighbourhood about it, that Samson threw it from near the “Pound” at Margam, to where it lies, five-sixths of a mile away. I found it to be a maenhir lying on the ground, partly covered with earth and over-grown by a thorn-bush. Having regard to its position it may have had some relation to the maenhir at Ty’n-y-Seler, from which it stands north-west about one and an eighth mile, and half a mile outside of Kenfig Borough boundary to the north, in Margam Parish. The stone measures nine feet in length, six feet in width, and one foot in thickness, but a large flake of stone near had evidently been split off it, so that it was formerly much thicker. It probably weighed nearly four tons originally and must have been an imposing monument when upright. When the ditch was made near the stone, in the time of the monks, it was carried partly round it, and I have no doubt the digging of the ditch caused the fall of the stone.
This maenhir stood in a peculiar position, for at high-water of spring tides, before the first of the sea walls was constructed, it would be surrounded by the tidal waters.

From ‘The Buried City of Kenfig’ (ch. 8) by Thomas Gray (1909).

One would have hoped that the fairies might have protected the latter stone (it having its thorn bush and everything). But I fear that if it were north west of the Ty’n-y-Selar stone, it’s either in the reservoir or trampled by the railway or the steelworks. One can only hope against hope that it’s safe somewhere. They’re seemingly quite good directions. Maybe it’s possible to figure out where it ought to be /have been.

Incidentally I didn’t realise how tall the stone is? It’s quite hard to imagine from Hamish’s loving photographs.

Craig Gwrtheyrn (Vortigern’s Rock).

Craig Gwrtheyrn is in the neighbourhood of Pencader in Carmarthenshire. According to an old legend, the disreputable old British King Vortigern, built a castle here in the fifth century; but he and his castle were destroyed by fire from heaven. There is also a story that Owen Glyndwr sleeps in a cave here.

From ‘Folklore of West and Mid-Wales’ by J C Davies (1911).

Coflein says that there are at least nine caves in the rock. In about 1907 bones of two adults and a child, and a perforated horse tooth were found in the cave’s stalagmite deposits. Three human teeth were found in 1980. The record says “the remains are conventionally dated to the Upper Palaeolithic, the period before the end of the last Ice Age.”

In one part of the [castle] building a passage terminates in a flight of steps leading down to a dark subterranean cave of about 200, or perhaps, 250 feet long, and at the end of this passage or cave, there is a well which is still used as a “wishing well,” more especially by young people.

[The author met three young ladies down there, but they were about to turn back being a bit weedy, but he gallantly accompanied them on to the well:] Before we left the spot, each one of the three young ladies threw a bent pin into the well, wishing, I suppose that she might have her heart’s desire. We found many pins at the bottom of the well, which had been probably left there by young people given to the practice of amorous spells.

From ‘Folklore of West and Mid-Wales‘ by J C Davies (1911).

Merlin’s Hill, Abergwili.

The end or final fate of Merlin is surrounded by mysteries. A few years ago when I was staying n the neighbourhood of Carmarthen, Merlin’s Hill (Bryn Myrddin) was pointed out to me where the great magician still lives (so they say) in a cave in that hill, and held there in imprisonment by an artful woman who contrived his disappearance from among human beings. Moreover, it is added, that if you listen in the twilight, you will hear his groans, and also the clanking of the iron chains which hold him bound. Others say he is heard working in this underground prison.

From ‘Folklore of West and Mid-Wales’ by J C Davies (1911).

Folklore connecting the stones with the Fianna: I’m not sure which particular sites might be referred to but you may know specifically?

Here in S. Uist are places which we call ‘Sorrachd Choire Fhinn.‘ Up yonder on the hillside are four great stones upon which they set their great kettle, and there are plenty of other places of the same kind. (The square is made with four large flat stones on edge, the sides being set N.S.E.W., five feet by three, inside the oblong. Near this monument are several fallen menhir, tall standing stones.)

The standing stones which you may see in these islands we call Ord Mhaoraich or Ord Bharnaich, bait hammers or limpet hammers. People say that they used these to knock off limpets and pound shells, as we use stones now; but that I do not believe. They say that one of them threw one from the shore up to the hillside near the north end of South Uist, but that cannot be true.

From ‘The Fionn Saga’ by George Henderson, in ‘The Celtic Review’ July 15th 1905.

There was a deadly feud between the Keiths and the Irvines. The Keiths were the ‘Marischals of Scotland’ which meant they kept tabs on the Scottish Crown Jewels, and looked after the king when he went to parliament. The Irvines also had a good pedigree, having been co-adventurer with Robert the Bruce. Eventually Alexander Irvine was asked to put a stop to all the feuding by marrying the daughter of the Marischal, which he did.

But, there was fighting with other people to be done, namely with Donald, Lord of the Isles. On the way to a battle at Harlaw,

..accompanied by his brother Robert, he [Irvine of Drum] halted upon the hill of Auchrony, in the parish of Skene, from the summit of which the house of Drum was visible on the one hand, and the field of battle on the other, and there seated on a stone, which still bears the appellation of Drum’s Stone, he advised Robert (if he himself should be slain), to marry his sister-in-law on his return, with whom, as he assured him, he had never consummated his marriage.

Irvine was killed, and there was, it’s said, a cairn at the site of his death, or perhaps of his burial. But according to the RCAHMS, there’s no trace now (at NJ 7513 2410). Apparently, (again taking my information from the New Statistical Account) “Robert having escaped the slaughter, married the lady according to [the] advice, and, upon succeeding to the estates, changed his Christian name to Alexander.” Now isn’t that a touch weird. Maybe that was normal in those days?! And can we really believe that the original Alexander’s marriage was such a feud-breaking device, if it was never consummated? But I don’t pretend to understand 15th century domestic and political arrangements.

I like this, it’s rather sarcastic but they obviously still like describing the goings-on.

The only remarkable spring here is that of St. Fillan, the Popish saint of Breadlbane, at the W. end of Stratherne.

This spring, tradition reports, reared its head on the top of Dun Fhaolain, (FILLAN’S Hill), for a long time doing much good; but in disgust, (probably at the Reformation!) it removed suddenly to the foot of a rock, a quarter of a mile to the southward, where it still remains, humbled indeed, but not forsaken. It is is still visited by valetudinary people, especially on the 1st of May, and the 1st of August. No fewer than 70 persons visited it in May and August 1791. The invalids, whether men, women, or children, walk, or are carried, round the well, three times, in a direction Deiseal, that is, from E. to W. according to the course of the Sun. They also drink of the water, and bathe in it. These operations are accounted a certain remedy for various diseases. They are particularly efficacious for curing barrenness; on which account it is frequently visited by those who are very desirous of offspring.

All the invalids throw a white stone on the saint’s cairn, and leave behind, as tokens of their confidence and gratitude, some rags of linen or woollen cloth.

The rock on the summit of the hill, formed, of itself, a chair for the saint, which still remains. Those who complain of rheumatism in the back, must ascend the hill, sit in this chair, then lie down on their back, and be pulled by the legs to the bottom of the hill. This operation is still performed, and reckoned very efficacious.

At the foot of the hill, there is a bason, made by the saint, on the top of a large stone, which [seldom?] wants water, even in the greatest drought; And all who are distressed [from?] sore eyes must wash them three times with this water.

From the eighteenth century Statistical Account of Comrie.

“The Sculptured Stones of Clatt, Aberdeenshire” by James Ritchie – from PSAS volume 44 (1909/10):

It was discovered in the foundation of a barn when it was being rebuilt in 1879, and was removed to the garden dyke for preservation by the late Mr Wm. Bisset, who all his life long took a great interest in such objects of antiquity. Where it originally came from is not known with certainty, but it was Mr Bisset’s opinion-- based upon the available information -- that it had been removed from the site of a dismantled stone circle which stood within a short distance of the farm buildings. Not a stone of the circle now remains, but the site is known in the neighbourhood by the name of “The Sunken Kirk.” The local tradition concerning the origin of the name is that in ancient times an attempt was made to build a kirk there, but that the attempt was frustrated by the devil, who caused the daily task of the workmen to sink out of sight during the night, till the builders gave up in despair. (It is curious that a somewhat similar tradition clings to the site of another now almost destroyed stone circle called Chapel o’ Sink, at Fetternear, about five miles west of Inverurie).

ads.ahds.ac.uk/catalogue/adsdata/PSAS_2002/pdf/vol_044/44_203_215.pdf

The article also speculates a little on the cupmarks and there are two photos. The rest of the article is about the ‘Pictish’ sculptured stones in the area. But do they need scouring for cupmarks too?!

Here’s something on Drewbhoy’s ‘little mentioned cairn’:

In one of the plantations on Binghill, there is a Druid’s temple enclosed with a common stone dike; and near to it is a large tumulus, which is said to have been once the burying-place of the family of Drum, a property in a neighbouring parish, where the descendants of that family now reside.

From the Peterculter chapter of the New Statistical Account.

--There are many large heaps of stones, commonly called cairns, on a heath or moor near Culblean, in the east end of Tullich: and they are said to cover the graves of those who fell in flight after the battle of Culblean or Kilblane, which, according to Buchanan, B. ix. c. 23, was fought between the adherents of King David Bruce and the followers of Cummin, Earl of Athole, in 1335. But, as none of these barrows have yet been opened, it is not known what may be under them, or whether they may not be of a still earlier date.

From the New Statistical Account of Glenmuick, Tullich, and Glengairn.

Part of an encampment still remains in the moor of Kinmuck, where tradition records that a great battle took place between the Danes and the Scotch. The latter are said to have slain a boar in their advance, and hence the name of Kinmuck, or boar’s head. The place of combat bears the name of Blair Hussey, or field of blood. In a large barrow or tumulus, about eighty yards from a Druidic stone, a chance visitor observed an urn partially uncovered. It was found to contain calcined bones. Two larger urns were subsequently found in a reversed position to the other, and were taken out in fragments. The bones in all three were put into a box, and buried in the original spot.

It’s a nice touch that the bones were reburied. This from the New Statistical Account.

Very dubious sounding but there you are.

The etymology of Echt is not known with certainty. An old tradition refers it to the Gaelic word “Each,” which signifies a horse. It bears that a division of an ancient Caledonian army having encamped in this parish, the officers and men, in the time of a severe drought, were reduced to great straits for want of water, when a horse which had been brought to the camp was seen to gallop to a spot where he had been accustomed to drink; and that, by pawing and scratching with his feet, some signs of water were discovered; in which spot, a well having been dug, afforded relief from thirst to the army. In memory of that event, this particular district, and afterwards the parish, is said to have been designated by the above term.

This from the New Statistical Account, by the Rev. William Ingram.

Question. Where have ye been to-day?
Answer. Where the devil hanged his grannie.

[The devil hanged his grannie on “the bowed rock on the brae,” a hanging crag, on the slope of Doddington Hill, that faces Wooler. It is a cavernous rock – one of Cuddy’s or St. Cuthbert’s coves – and has cut on its sides a few Runic characters, and on its top some of those mysterious cup-markings, ascribed to the ancient Britons, which are so frequent on this hill. On the summit of the rock, which is of sandstone, the rain gathers into little circular pools, which, being whirled about by the wind and partly filled with sand, are becoming deeper and deeper. They empty themselves when full along many deep gutters, round the brow of the rock, that resemble hollows made by ropes fraying the softer parts of the stone [...] – History of Berwickshire Naturalists’ Club, vii., p75. – J. H.]

From the Folklore Society’s reprinting of the Denham Tracts, v1, 1892.

Tradition points out Shafto Crags, as a place of the Earl’s concealment; a spot in that wild district, which is called “Sawter’s [soldier’s] Nick,” is said to be the place where, by descending a precipitous cliff, he escaped from the sentries who had tracked the noble fugitive to his quarry.

From “Dilston Hall : or, Memoirs of the Right Hon. James Radcliffe, Earl of Derwenter, a martyr in the Rebellion of 1715” by William Sidney Gibson (1850).

The Jacobite uprising in 1715 was the third major attempt to get the descendants of the catholic King James VII of Scotland (II of England) back on the throne – they believed they had the Divine Right to be there. There’s plenty of information on the Northumbrian Jacobites website, which mentions the legend that Derwentwater and his brother escaped from the authorities by taking refuge in the caves at Shafto Crags.
northumbrianjacobites.org.uk/index.php