We used to live on Dartmoor. Mysterious Dartmoor. `These cryptic stones are my life. I want to get the secret of them or find at least a little of it. What are these lonely rings? Where are we standing now? In a place of worship, where men prayed to the thunder and the sun and stars? Or a council chamber? Or a court of justice that has seen many a doom pronounced, much red blood flow? Or is it a grave? Tis the fashion to reject the notion that they represent any religious purpose; yet I cannot see any argument against the theory. I go on peeping and prying after a spark of truth. I probe here (Scorhill Circle), and in the fallen circle yonder towards Cosdon; I follow the stone rows to Fernworthy; I trudge again and again to the Grey Wethers - that shattered double ring on Sittaford Tor. I eat them up with my eyes and re-people the heath with those who raised them. Some day a gleam of light may come. And if it does, it will reach me through deep study on those stone men of old.`, (Phillpotts, 1903, pp. 281 -282).