Rhiannon

Robin Hood, or Robert Earl of Huntingdon, of whose exploits, at the head of his merry outlaws, all the world has heard, died in 1274. He is said to have been the founder of “Robin Hood’s Bay,” near Whitby. One day, standing on the top of Swarthoue, the highest tumulus in our vicinity, he resolved to build a town where his arrow should alight, which he then shot towards the coast where the maritime place above named, with its 1200 inhabitants, is now situated, although the distance direct across the country from Swarthoue is at least six miles!

p114 in ‘A glossary of Yorkshire words and phrases collected in Whitby and the Neighbourhood. By An Inhabitant. 1855. You can read this on Google Books.
The Inhabitant also mentions some stones of indeterminate age connected with Robin Hood, but maybe they’re gone now?

Robin Hood’s Pillars – two rude stones, between three and four feet high, a mile to the south of Whitby Abbey, which tradition asserts as marking the places where the arrows of Robin Hood and his mate Little John fell, on a trial of archery from the top of the abbey, after they had dined with the abbot. They are in separate fields, which are still called Robin Hood and Little John’s closes; but John outshot his master by a distance of one hundred feet, according to the position of the pillar assigned as his.

Little John outdoes Robin Hood? Good work there.

This round barrow was used as a base for a post mill at one time, according to the scheduled monument record. According to Leslie Grinsell’s source, “the late R. R. Clarke of Norwich Castle Museum”, this barrow on Belton Common was said to contain golden gates or a golden plough.
in Barrow Treasure, in Fact, Tradition, and Legislation
L. V. Grinsell
Folklore, Vol. 78, No. 1. (Spring, 1967), pp. 1-38.

Winterslow: tradition of golden coffin buried in the vicinity, which contains two of the largest barrows in the county (excluding Silbury). Information from the late J.F.S. Stone, 1951.

From Barrow Treasure, in Fact, Tradition, and Legislation
L. V. Grinsell
Folklore, Vol. 78, No. 1. (Spring, 1967), pp. 1-38.

As you can tell, this might not be this Bronze age barrow that the folklore refers to – there are a large number of barrows in cemeteries to the north of the Winterslows. So you probably won’t find it. Just leave your metal detector at home please.

Hollingbury: hidden treasure, uncertain whether supposed to be concealed in the hill-fort or the barrows within it. See Sussex A. C. 75 (1934), 238.

Barrow Treasure, in Fact, Tradition, and Legislation
L. V. Grinsell
Folklore, Vol. 78, No. 1. (Spring, 1967), pp. 1-38.

Berwick St John, Winkelbury Hill: golden coffin said to be buried on this hill where there are several barrows. (Landlord of the Talbot Inn to L.V.G., 1951).

Barrow Treasure, in Fact, Tradition, and Legislation
L. V. Grinsell
Folklore, Vol. 78, No. 1. (Spring, 1967), pp. 1-38.

Hence I went to Mamme Torr, which is an high Mountain broken on one Side, of which the Tradition is, that the Earth continually falls down, yet is not the Hill any thing diminished, nor the Heaps of Earth below at all encreased.

I got as near as I could to the broken Side, but could not hear or see any such running down of the Earth; when there is Rain, the Water running down washeth away with it much of the Hill.

I was informed, that on the Top of this Mountain is an antient Roman Camp, encompassed with a double Trench, whereabout are sometimes found Store of antient Roman Medals.

p177 in ‘Select Remains of the Learned John Ray, with his Life’ by William Derham. Published 1760.
Online at Google Books.
John Ray’s journey to Mam Tor was made in 1658.

A later visitor didn’t believe the hype:

Mam-tor is a huge Precipice facing the East, or South-East; which is said to be perpetually shivering and throwing down great Stones on a smaller Mountain below it; and that nevertheless, neither the one increases, nor the other decreases in Bigness.

This Mountain is composed chiefly of a Sort of Slate-Stone (called in that Country Black Shale and great Stone. The Nature of the Black Shale is known to be, that notwithstanding it is very hard before it is exposed to the Air; yet it is afterwards very easily crumbled to Dust. Thus on any Storm, or melting of Snow, this Shale is considerably wasted; and as the great Stones are gradually disengaged, they must necessarily fall down.

That it is only at these Times that the Mountain wastes, is affirmed by the most intelligent of the neighbouring Inhabitants: And that this Decay is not perpetual, I can affirm myself; having not only taken a close Survey of it, but also climbed up the very Precipice, without feeling any other shivering in the Mountain, than what the treading of my own Feet in the loose crumbled Earth occasioned. That the Mountain does not decrease in the mean Time, is a Tale too frivolous to need any Consideration.

An Account of some Observations relating to Natural History, made in a Journey to the Peak in Derbyshire by Mr. J. Martyn, F.R.S. From the Proceedings of the Royal Society of London, 1753.

We ascended to the Top of that noted Hill, called Roseberry, or Ounsberry Topping, the Top whereof is fastigiate, like a Sugar Loaf, and serves for a Sea-mark. It may be seen at a great Distance, viz. from Stanmore, which is in a right Line above 20 Miles off.

From hence we had a Prospect of that pleasant and fruitful Vale, Part whereof is called Cliveland, a Country noted for a good Breed of Horses. The Ways here in Winter Time are very bad, and almost impassable, according to that proverbial Rhyme,

Cliveland in the Clay,
Bring in two Soles, carry one away.

Near this Hill we went to see a Well celebrated for the Cure of sore or dim Eyes, and other Diseases. Every one that washes in it, or receives Benefit by it, ties a Lacinia, or Rag of Linnen or Woollen, &c. on a Shrub or Bush near it, as an Offering or Acknowlegement.

From p176 of ‘Select Remains of the Learned John Ray, with his Life’ by William Derham. Published 1760.
Online at Google Books.

I think John Ray’s journey was made in 1661.

I only leave the first bit in because it might be funny if you know someone from Whitby.

The People of Gisburgh are civil, cleanly, and well-bred, contrary to the Temper of the Inhabitants of Whitby, who, to us, seemed rude in Behaviour, and sluttish.

In the Way from Whitby to Gisburgh, we passed by Freeburgh Hill,, which they told us was cast up by the Devil, at the Entreaty of an old Witch, who desired it, that from thence she might espy her Cow in the Moor.

From p177 of ‘Select Remains of the Learned John Ray, with his Life’ by William Derham. Published 1760.
Online at Google Books. I think John Ray’s journey was made in 1661.

There is an artificial mount, by the side of the road leading from North Burton to Wold Newton, near Bridlington, in Yorkshire, called “Willy-howe,” much exceeding in size the generality of our “hows,” of which I have often heard the most preposterous stories related.

A cavity or division on the summit is pointed out as owing its origin to the following circumstance:-

A person having intimation of a large chest of gold being buried therein, dug away the earth until it appeared in sight; he then had a train of horses, extending upwards of a quarter of a mile, attached to it by strong iron traces; by these means he was just on the point of accomplishing his purpose, when he exclaimed--

“Hop Perry, prow Mark,
Whether God’s will or not, we’ll have this ark.”

He, however, had no sooner pronounced this awful blasphemy, than all the traces broke, and the chest sunk still deeper in the hill, where it yet remains, all his future efforts to obtain it being in vain.

p92 in: The every-day book and table-book; or, Everlasting calendar of popular amusements. By William Hone, 1837, and now online at Google Books.

Addleborough. Concerning Addleborough Hill, where there are remains of a Druidical circle, it is asserted with perhaps more reason than rhyme --

“Druid, Roman, Scandinavia,
Stone raise on Addleboro’.”

Taken from an article called ‘Yorkshire Rhymes and Proverbs’ by Mr William Andrews, in Old Yorkshire v1 pp263-69, and reprinted in
Additions to “Yorkshire Local Rhymes and Sayings”
E. G.
The Folk-Lore Journal, Vol. 1, No. 5. (May, 1883), pp. 164-165.

Pillesdon Pen is a remarkably high hill, a mile north from the village. On its easter limit, near the turnpike road leading from Broad Windsor to Furzemoor Gate and Lambart’s Castle, is a large and very strong Entrenchment, encompassed with a triple rampart and ditches, excepting on the eastern summit, where the natural ascent is so steep, as to have rendered the camp inaccessible. The form of this Camp is nearly oval, being adapted to the shape of the hill on which it stands.

Fuller, in his Worthies of England, mentions a proverbial saying current here;
“as much a-kin
As Lew’son Hill to Pil’son Pen;”
which was spoken of such as have vicinity without acquaintance.

The two hills are within a mile of each other, and form eminent sea marks: the seamen denominate one the Cow, and the other the Calf, from their imagined resemblance to those animals when beheld from a distance.

From p525 in The Beauties of England and Wales, Or, Delineations, Topographical, Historical, and Descriptive of each County. Vol 4. John Britton and Edward Wedlake Brayley, 1803. Online at Google Books.

On the hill to the south of this mansion [Creech Grange], a.. Phenomenon is recorded to have been observed.. This was the visionary semblance of a vast number of armed men, apparently several thousands, who appeared to be marching from Flower’s Barrow, over Grange Hill: at the same time a great noise, and clashing of arms, was supposed to be heard.

These appearances were observed on an evening in December, 1678, by Captain John Laurence, then owner of Grange, his brother, and “by all the people in the cottages and hamlets thereabouts, who left their supper and houses, and came to Wareham, and alarmed the town; on which the boats were all drawn to the north side of the river, and the bridge barricadoed [sic]. Three hundred of the militia were also marched to Wareham; and Captain Laurence and his brother went post to London, and deposed the particulars on oath before the Council.*

*Hutchin’s Dorset, Vol1 p327, ad Edit.
“I have in my possesion,” continues our author, “an original letter, written by Mr. Thomas Dolman, I suppose then clerk of the Council, dated December 14, 1678, directed to George Fulford, and Robert Cotton, Esqrs. Officers of the Militia, wherein he tells them, Mr. Secretary Coventry had communicated their letter of the 10th instant, touching the number of armed men, pretended to be seen in Purbeck, to the Lords of the Council, who commanded him to let them know, that they took in good part their care of putting themselves in a posture of defence; and that the contrivers and spreaders of this false news were ordered to be sent for, to be dealt with according to their deserts; and had not Captain Laurence and his family been of known affection to the Government, he would have been severely punished.

This phenomenon seems to have been owing to the thick fogs and mists that often hang on the hills in Purbeck, and form grotesque appearances of craggy rocks, and ruins of buildings. At this time the evening sun might glance on these, which, assisted and improved by a strong imagination, caused the spectators to fancy what never existed.”

Yeah but why would local people used to these fogs interpret them as soldiers? You’ll have to do better than that to convince me. From p401 of The Beauties of England and Wales, Or, Delineations, Topographical, Historical, and Descriptive of each County. Vol 4. John Britton and Edward Wedlake Brayley, 1803. Online at Google Books.

[Saint] Dyfnan is reputed to have been a son of Brychan Brycheiniog, but his name is not found in either version of the Cognatio. He is the patron of Llanddyfnan, in Anglesey, where he is buried, according to tradition.

You would imagine, due to the proximity of the church to the stone, that there would be a story to connect the stone with the saint. But I don’t know of one.. Surely there’s one out there somewhere.
p396 of Sabine Baring-Gould’s ‘Lives of the British Saints’, part 3. 1907

In describing the vitrified site of the Top of Noth in Strathbogie, Dr Hibbert speaks of “a lofty upright stone on the westerly flank of the hill, connected with which is a monstrous traditional story of its having been placed there by a giant, the print of whose heel in it is still visible.” Archaeologia Scotica, vol. iv. p.297.

Mentioned on p 82 of ‘Deliciae Literariae: A New Volume of Table-talk’, by Joseph Robertson, 1840. (online at Google Books)

The RCAHMS record describes this as a natural stone. A 1967 visit said it was a “large, much-weathered boulder, with a faint natural mark forming the outline of a boot print on its south face”.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Weather folklore for the hill:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apparently not just for fertility:

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

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