Rhiannon

On the top of “Hedgehope,” the round-headed hill that is neighbour to Cheviot, there is a hollow in an incised stone, known as the “Bluidy Trough,” on account of the colour given to the water by the orange-red moss or lichen covering the stone. It is lucky to make a wish here, and drop in a crooked pin – a great number can be seen clearly, lying at the bottom of the hollow, in the water.
- Contributed by Mr T--, Belford, Northumberland, estate agent.

This from the Northumberland ‘County Folk-Lore’, collected by M.C. Balfour (1904). Perhaps the colour might be down to that red coloured algae you get in bird baths sometimes?

From the Aberdeenshire Ordnance Survey Name Books (1865-71).

This name is given to a standing stone 7 chains south west of Roddentree. There seems to have been a stone circle as other stones are beside this one, but are deeply imbedded in the earth. Many years ago the word ‘Cummer’ was applied to the Mistress of the house, latterly the meaning changed to ‘a worthless woman’. There are traces of a house near this stone which was inhabited by an old woman, many years ago. Hence the name.

I had a look in the Oxford English Dictionary and it has various versions of this Scottish word: a godmother, a female companion, a gossip, or a familiarly-applied word for a woman “with various local specific applications, e.g. young woman, lass, girl, witch, wise-woman, midwife, etc.” (Nothing particularly derogatory unless you mean it that way I suppose).

From the Ordnance Survey Name Books, which you can look at courtesy of the Scotlands Places website. This is from the Forfarshire book, recorded 1857-1861.

Hare Cairn. A prominent knoll forming the highest point of the ‘Hill of Stracathro’. There is a large remarkable stone on the top of it, which is said to have been the spot where the standard of either of the leaders was planted in the battle which took place here in 1452 [...]

After the murder of Douglas, by James 2nd, in 1452, the Earl of Crawford summoned his vassals throughout Angus, with the intention of joining the army of Douglas’ brother, who had risen to revenge his death – to march against the King’s forces. The King, desirous to cut off the communication between the armies of Douglas and Crawford, commanded the Earl of Huntly, whom he had appointed Lieutenant General, to march southwards, while he himself led a powerful army to the north, for the purpose of joining him. Crawford, equally anxious to check Huntly’s progress, met him about 10 miles from his (Crawford’s) own castle, at the ‘Hare Cairn’, about two miles northeast of the city of Brechin, on the 1st of May 1452, when a battle took place in which the valour displayed by Crawford’s party was so great that the battle had in all probability been decided in their favour, had not Collace, the laird of Balnamoon – who was offended at Crawford for refusing to comply with some demands made by him on the field – left his side, with three hundred followers, and joined the ranks of Huntly, which before long decided the battle in favour of the royalists.

The farm on which the battle was fought is still called ‘Huntlyhill’. If ever (as Mr Jarvise states) the names of Earl Beardie’s or Huntly’s stone were known to the stone on the ‘Hare Cairn’ they are now entirely forgotten.

Sir James Campbell, the proprietor, and his park keeper Alexander Howie, a very old man (who remembers it) informs me that there was a large artificial cairn of stones at this place, and that the present large monolith has been tumbled from the top of the beacon which it surmounted. The stones had become scattered in Sir James’ time and hence were removed.
J.B. Lt. Col.

You’ve got to be pretty pissed off (or just like fighting and not care who you’re fighting for) to switch sides so easily?

There is a cute little sketch of the stone on the first page.

Facing the Bristol Channel, with a glorious expanse of hill and vale stretching out for many miles beyond it, the situation of this burial place is grand in the extreme [...]

The field adjoining the one in which the Cromlech stands, is called Maes Arthur (Arthur’s field) and it was so much the custom in Medieval times to connect ancient megalithic monuments with the name of this valiant prince, that it is probable at some period this Cromlech was looked upon as his grave; a circumstance which we find in many parts of England and Wales.

From Mary Bagnall-Oakeley’s ‘An Account of Some of the Rude Stone Monuments and Ancient Burial Mounds in Monmouthshire’ (1889).

Robert M Heanley was told this version “by a native of Melksham, whose family has been settled thereabouts for at least three centuries, and has handed on the tradition from generation to generation:

When Stonehenge was builded, a goodish bit after Avebury, the devil was in a rare taking. ‘There’s getting a vast deal too much religion in these here parts,’ he says, ‘summat must be done.’ So he picks up his shovel, and cuts a slice out of Salisbury Plain, and sets off for to smother up Avebury. But the priests saw him coming and set to work with their charms and incusstations, and they fixed him while he was yet a nice way off, till at last he flings down his shovelful just where he was stood. And that’s Silbury.

Mr Heanley adds: ‘Only those who have seen Silbury can appreciate the size of that shovelful’.

Usually the Devil’s trying to flatten churches, but it sounds like he hates all religions equally?

This is from some correspondence in ‘Folklore’ volume 24, December 1913.

I don’t think it’s wholly stupid of me to think he was referring to this place?

The belief in fairies was once common all over the country. That interesting race seems to have died out in this part of the country. At least in all my wanderings I have never seen a fairy or spoken to any person who had seen one. Though I have conversed with one very old woman, who died about 40 years ago, upon the subject, and remember having listened with amusement, not unmixed with awe, to the wonderful tales she told us of encounters some of her early acquaintances had had with the green-coated fraternity.

But, if we have no fairies, we have still some of the relics of them. On the occasion of our late visit to Deskford, Mr Cramond pointed out to me a clump of trees, which contained a ‘fairy hillock.’ We did not stop to examine it; but, I suppose, it resembles those green round mounds, which are rather common in this part of the country, and of which I intend to have something to say on some future occasion.

He then goes on to tell a tale of fairies in a hillock in the ‘lonely range of Gromack’: I see Grumack Hill is also in Moray.
From the Banffshire Journal, 17th May 1887.

Interesting Incised Megalith.
We are indebted to Mr T.A. Matthews [for the particulars of] a very interesting incised megalith, which is to be seen at Owslow Farm, Carsington, about half-way between Ashbourne and Wirksworth. This relic (said by some authorities to be 3,000 to 4,000 years old) certainly has the appearance of considerable antiquity, and there are several stories related in connection with it.

One is to the effect that it was an altar used in the Druidical days; another states that it marks a burial place, while there is a local tradition that an erstwhile great man of Brassington kicked the stone from a neighbouring hill to its present position.

But the most interesting feature of the “stoup” is a deeply cut cross on its southern face. This cross is not readily noticeable, owing to the growth of moss. It measures about 6 inches by 2 inches, and the arms are not square to the shaft, the one to the right, or east, being considerably higher than the one to the left, or west.

The stone itself measures about 7 feet in vertical height above the ground, and about 7 feet 6 inches on the centre line. It is a matter for serious consideration whether the “stoup” should be restored to an upright position. It has fallen over to the south and west, and is probably still subsiding.

From the Ashbourne News Telegraph, 24th October 1913.

Wellington, under the Wrekin.
It has been usual for the people in this neighbourhood to assemble on the Wrekin hill, on the Sunday after May-day and the three successive Sundays, to drink a health ‘to all friends round the Wrekin;’ but as, on this annual festival, various scenes of drunkenness and other licentiousness were frequently exhibited, its celebration has, of late, been very properly discouraged by the magistracy, and is going deservedly to decay.
February, 1826. W.P.

Hone’s “Everyday Book and Tablebook,” (1837). I don’t think you’ll ever stop people getting drunk and misbehaving, sorry. And judging by the other (later) examples below, it didn’t stop any time soon.

This site features in Macpherson’s Ossian poems of the 18th century. Even at the time people thought they were Rather Imaginative. But given that all folklore’s imaginative, perhaps it doesn’t hurt to mention his take on the stones, and who knows, perhaps it was a real local story after all.

So it seems the legendary Fingal brought his dog Bran over to Scotland when he visited the local chief. And the Sutherland chief had his own dog, Phorp. But the dogs had an altercation, quite a bad one really, where Phorp got his heart ripped out. This is supposed to have been at ‘Leck na Con’ (the stone of the dogs) between Clyne and Wildonan. And Bran didn’t come off so well either and had to be buried in Glen Loth – which is why this place is called Carn Bran.

(Summarised from the summary in ‘The illustrated book of the dog’ by VK Shaw, 1881).

[Tammy Norries, the cattle herd on Balmain] not only suffered instantaneous death, but by a supernatural influence his body was prevented receiving ordinary burial! For it is stated that, being found at his post and standing upright, it was found impossible (in accordance with announcement of the ghostly warder) to remove the body from the spot to which it appeared to be rooted!

With the inventive genius for which the natives of Scotland, and more particuarly the inhabitants of the district, are remarkable, an uncommon mode of burial to suit the uncommon obstinacy and unbending disposition of the subject was adopted, and a cairn of stones was erected round the body, which (namely a cairn of stones) undoubtedly remains until this day, and is known by the name of Norries’ Law.

The above ridiculous legend has laid claim to no small degree of credibility on the strength of an occurrence no farther back than sixty years ago! The farmer of the land on which Norries’ Law is situated having occasion for a quantity of stones to repair some fences, and actuated by the utilitarian principles which even then were spreading their poisonous scepticism through our land, took upon him to lay his sacrilegious hands upon the aforesaid mysterious cairn, and to make it available for his vile purpose. But, lo! a superior power steps in to put a stop to the impious act! Mr Durham’s steward appears, with anger on his countenance and a message from the laird on his lips, requesting the said farmer to desist from removing, and to restore the stones already removed to their places.

It was at this important epoch of this memorable history that the cairn was discovered to be not a solid mass of stones, but to have enclosed something, and what more likely than the body of a human being? The fact of a few bones and other substances being found there and thereabouts was looked upon by the simple natives as giving confirmation strong to the aforegoing romantic tale; and were this not an age of scoffers and sceptics, we would not have taken the trouble to refresh the minds of the public with a story which, although some may consider it stale, is as good as most others of the same sort.

Fife Herald, 21st December 1843.

This is a large cairn of stones at the top of Ballyheady Mountain which is about 3 miles to the west of Ballyconnell.
The following is a local legend connected and accounting for the cairn.
Once in Meath a chieftain committed some crime and drew the wrath of the people upon him. A crowd of women gathered to kill him. They filled their aprons with stones to stone him to death and they started for the place of his abode. But he heard of their coming and fled northwards. They pursued him, still taking stones with them in their Aprons. With his pursuers close at his heels the criminal was fording the River near Ballyconnell; now known as The Woodford River, and he got drowned. The women foiled of their prey, went to the nearby mountain and emptied out the stones from their Aprons at its top.
Such was the origin of the cairn.

From the 1930s Schools Collection of folklore at Duchas.ie.

I also found the following:

It is now, of course, quite impossible to discover the identities of the personages whose remains have rested in the Ballyheady cairn for three thousand years. History is silent on the matter, but there is a local tradition that this cairn marks the burialplace of Conall Cernach, the hero of the Tain Cycle. [...] Conall Cernach, who was the foster-brother of Cuchullain, was murdered by the desperadoes of Queen Medb at Ath na Mianna – the Ford of the Miners – in Breiffne. [...] It is generally accepted that Ath na Mianna was on the River Graine, now the Woodford River, and in the neighbourhood of the present town of Ballyconnell.

From the Breiffne Antiquarian Historical Society Journal for 1931-1933.

Less than 100 yards north of the fort was (is?) a spring. (I can see it on an 1867 map at SZ314970).

Buckland Spring.
Near Buckland, north of Lymington, there was a small spring to the north of the great earthwork which was for generations held in great estimation for its reputative curative properites in ophthalmic disorders.

In RC Hope’s ‘Legendary Lore of the Holy Wells of England’ (1893) – he’s quoting from the Hampshire Field Club v2, pt i., p.47.

A steep path leads down from Windsbatch to some springs (and a church) at the foot of the hill. I expect the “person with glasses” charged for their use, but that is not to take away from the ambience of the spot, I am sure.

Holy Wells.
I see in the April Antiquary that Mr Hope does not mention a spring or well at Upwey, a few miles from Weymouth – it is a wishing well. There is always a person near with glasses from which to drink the waters, wish, and throw the remainder over the shoulder. It is really the source of the Wey, a fine spring of clear water coming out of the ground, and flows on until it becomes the river at Weymouth. There is a church a few yards higher up.
George Bailey, Derby.

From ‘The Antiquary’ v21 (1890).

In the Clee Hills is St Milborough’s Well at Stoke St. Milborough (in Domesday Book, Godestoch). It is an unfailing spring, a little above the church, and at the foot of the steep bank leading up the Brown Clee Hill.

It was reputed to be good for sore eyes, and was also much used for ‘bucking’ clothes, which were rinsed in the well-water and beaten on a flat stone at the well’s mouth: but some ten years ago it was covered in, and altered, and I am told is now in a ruinous and unsightly condition.

The legend still current in the village, relates that St Milburga was a very holy and beautiful woman, who, nevertheless, had so many enemies that she was obliged to live in hiding. Her retreat, however, became known, and she took to flight, mounted on a white horse, and pursued by her foes with a pack of bloodhounds, and a gang of rough men on horseback. After two days and two nights’ hard riding she reached the spot where the well now is, and fell fainting from her horse, striking her head upon a stone. Blood flowed from the wound, and the stain it caused upon the stone remained there plainly visible, and has been seen by many persons now living.

On the opposite side of the road, some men were sowing barley in a field called the Plock, and they ran to help the Saint. Water was wanted, but none was at hand. The horse, at St. Milburga’s bidding, struck his hoof into the rock and at once a spring of water gushed out. ‘Holy water, henceforth and for ever flow freely,’ said the Saint. Then, stretching out her hands, she commanded the barley the men had just sown to spring up, and instantly the green blades appeared.

Turning to the men, she told them that her pursuers were close at hand, and would presently ask them, ‘When did the lady on the white horse pass this way?’ to which they were to answer, ‘When we were sowing this barley.’ She then remounted her horse, and bidding them prepare their sickles, for in the evening they should cut their barley, she went on her way.

And it came to pass as the Saint had foretold. In the evening the barley was ready for the sickle, and while the men were busy reaping, St Milburga’s enemies came up, and asked for news of her. The men replied that she had stayed there at the time of the sowing of the barley, and they went away baffled. But when they came to hear that the barley was sown in the morning, ripened at mid-day, and was reaped in the evening, they owned that it was in vain to fight against God.

Medieval hagiologists relate the flight of St Milburga from the too violent suit of a neighbouring prince, whose pursuit was checked by the River Corve, which, as soon as she had passed it, swelled from an insignificant brook to a might flood which effectually barred his progress. They also tell how when the wild geese ate the new-sown grain from the Saint’s fields, she commanded them to be gone, and forbade any of their race to trespass on ‘St Milburga’s Land’ from that time forth; how, when the veil fell from St Milburga’s head in the early morning sunshine, it remained suspended in the air until replaced; and how a mystic flame enveloped her as she prostrated herself beside the dead body of a certain poor widow’s son, who was restored to life by her prayers.

St Milburga’s Day is the 23rd of February, and thus falls at the period of ‘Lent-tillin’’ or spring wheat-sowing. It is very evident from these traditions, both ancient and modern, that in the minds of the still half-heathen people among whom she dwelt, she took the place of one of their ancient rustic goddesses, coming forth in the morning sunlight, and swiftly journeying in the spring time among the hills and valleys, making the waters flow and the corn spring up as she went.

From ‘Shropshire Folklore’, edited by C.S. Burne, from the collections of G.F. Jackson (1886).

It doesn’t look that ‘ruinous and unsightly’ in Time Prevett’s video on Youtube, it looks rather nice. And it’s certainly a very pagan-tinged story. I think it might be worth a visit. I guess you can argue it’s a mile or two away from the top of the hill, but certainly in its foothills.

This is a bit feeble really.

Haughmond Hill. A reason for the name of this hill is given in the following legend – While the battle of Shrewsbury was being fought, the Queen was looking on from a cluster of trees on the top of the hill. (The legend says that it was Queen Anne, and that she gave the name of Queen Anne’s bower to the place where she was standing; while history shows that she was not Queen at that date.) When she saw that the Royalists were winning she exclaimed, “Amen! the battle is won”! and thus the hill received its name. It was called Amen Hill, later Hamon, which ultimately passed into Haughmond.

From ‘Shropshire Traditions’ in the Wellington Journal, 31st October 1903.

Picturesque Llanblethian.

Descending Llanblethian-hill, the path to Cowbridge passes over very rocky ground, some of the rocks curiously marked – one forms a fancied resemblance to the impression that would be made by a foot and knee in kneeling, is set down as having been made by the devil, who, in carrying a load, was obliged to rest there. May not the legend have taken its rise in monkish times?

Entering the field from the hill, the pathway winds at the head of three or four strong springs in the field corner. That nearest the hill used to be considered good for diseases of the eye, and cures were wrought there – nothing is now heard of its restorative powers.

Further on, by the hedge-side is a spring protected by a low square of masonry, with an orifice on one side for the overflow. In this are some fragments of an oaken box (nearly perfect a few years ago), where children and others used to go and wish, dropping a pin into the box at the time. Ill-luck was to attend those who took any of the pins out of the box, nevertheless the pins were often cleared out. Either at this well, or the Bomin (Bowman’s) well in the next field, children used to flock on a certain day in the year, All-Hallow’s-tide, I fancy, taking with them drinking vessels and sugar, mixing the sugar with the waters of the spring, and drinking them.

Some years ago a half-crazed fellow began searching for treasures within the precincts of the old castle. After wasting some time therein he gave it up as a bad job. In a drawing of the place as it stood in 1740 the ruins appear of much greater extent than at present, as well as those of Castell Llychad (or Llychod), which is introduced in the back ground. Much of the old castle was taken down 40 years ago to build St. Quentin’s Cottage [...] between here and the castle, on the top of Llanblethian-hill, Castell Llychod, a subterranean passage is said to exist. As there is nothing to indicate such a means of communication, the tradition must be taken upon its own merits.

‘Cadrawd’ writing in the Cardiff Times, 1st July 1893.

I had a look at the old maps and “The Devil’s Foot and Knee” is marked up until the 1960s, at SS986743, on a footpath, so might well be findable. The eye well is at SS987744 and Bowmen’s well at SS988745.