A broken polished stone axe was included in the centre of the monument, which archaeologists believe was likely placed there as part of a ritual act of deposition.

A rectangular pit was dug into the western side of the barrow shortly after its completion, likely containing a ritual deposit of organic material, before being refilled.

In the Iron Age, a hearth was established in the ditch circling the barrow; in the Romano-British period, human remains and a coin hoard were buried around its perimeter.

[4] This came about through contact with continental societies, although it is unclear to what extent this can be attributed to an influx of migrants or to indigenous Mesolithic Britons adopting agricultural technologies from the continent.

[5] The region of modern Kent would have been a key area for the arrival of continental European settlers and visitors, because of its position on the estuary of the River Thames and its proximity to the continent.

[8] Throughout most of Britain, there is little evidence of cereal or permanent dwellings from this period, leading archaeologists to believe that the Early Neolithic economy on the island was largely pastoral, relying on herding cattle, with people living a nomadic or semi-nomadic life.

[13] The construction of these collective burial monumental tombs, both wooden and megalithic, began in continental Europe before being adopted in Britain in the first half of the fourth millennium BCE.

[13] Many archaeologists have suggested that this is because Early Neolithic people adhered to an ancestor cult that venerated the spirits of the dead, believing that they could intercede with the forces of nature for the benefit of their living descendants.

[17] Archaeologist Caroline Malone noted that the tombs would have served as one of a variety of markers in the landscape that conveyed information on "territory, political allegiance, ownership, and ancestors.

[20] Many archaeologists have suggested that the construction of such monuments reflects an attempt to stamp control and ownership over the land, thus representing a change in mindset brought about by Neolithicisation.

[25] The decision by the builders of the Stour long barrows to not use stone was likely deliberate, for sarsens are naturally present in the local area and could have been obtained had they wanted them.

[27] The archaeologist Paul Ashbee thought that there was a typological link between Julliberrie's Grave and the long barrows on the chalk downlands of Sussex, despite the fact that they are over fifty miles apart from each other.

[2] Conversely, it could have been that human remains were located in the northern end of the mound, which was later destroyed — likely by chalk quarrying — prior to any archaeological excavation.

[37] On the typological basis of a polished axe-head found within the barrow, the archaeologist Stuart Piggott suggested that the monument had been constructed at a late date within the Early Neolithic.

Its appearance suggested that care had been taken when both digging and filling it in; at its bottom was a deposit of lumpy chalk along with organic material that archaeologists in the 1930s could not identify, but which likely represented the item originally placed within the pit.

[13] Archaeologists have suggested that this is because Early Neolithic Britons adhered to an ancestor cult that venerated the spirits of the dead, believing that they could intercede with the forces of nature for the benefit of their living descendants.

[15] The archaeologist Robin Holgate stressed that rather than simply being tombs, the Medway Megaliths were "communal monuments fulfilling a social function for the communities who built and used them".

[17] The archaeologist Caroline Malone noted that the tombs would have served as one of various landscape markers that conveyed information on "territory, political allegiance, ownership, and ancestors".

[53] A pot containing a hoard of Roman coins dating to the era of the Emperor Constantine was buried in the vicinity of the barrow; it was rediscovered in the nineteenth century.

[55] Excavation on the site's northwest corner also revealed worn sherds of Romano-British pottery, including a piece from a second-century Samian ware cup, located 15.2 cm (six inches) below the surface of the turf.

[56] The archaeologist Howard Williams noted that the Romano-British use of such prehistoric monuments could have been because, at the time, they were regarded "as the embodiment of local deities, ancestors and group identity".

[59] The northern end of the tumulus has also faced some damage from wastage, a result of rain water repeatedly dripping onto it from overhanging trees.

[61] The Julli- element might have derived from an individual's name or might be a reference to jewels, items which locals could have thought were present inside the barrow.

[60] Also in this period, a local man named Mr Read, who lived in the neighbouring mill, said that his father had forbidden him from climbing the mound, because it would be disrespectful to stand upon a grave.

For my own part, imagining all along that there might be something of real Antiquity couch'd under that name, I am almost perswaded [sic] that Laberius Durus the Tribune, slain by the Britains [sic]... was buried here; and that from him the Barrow was call'd Jul-Laber.Camden's ideas were largely accepted by later antiquarian commentators on the site, among them William Lambarde in his 1576 Perambulation of Kent, Richard Kilburne in his 1650 A Topographie of Kent, and Thomas Philipott in this 1659 Villare Cantianum.

[66] The account would also influence William Gostling, who in various editions of his Walk in and About the City of Canterbury—published between 1774 and 1825—included the long barrow on a map, where he labelled it "Jullaber or Tomb of Laberius".

[70] In a letter Finch wrote to John Battely, the Archdeacon of Canterbury, shortly after the excavation, he noted that: "that it has been a burial-place is manifest, but of what people or time I find no marks.

[1] The excavation was both instigated and funded by the landowner who owned the barrow, Sir Edmund Davis, after the publication of Dr. R. Austin Freeman's novel, The Penrose Mystery (London: Hodder & Stouton, 1936) in which it plays a central role.

[76] After conducting this excavation, Jessup's team engaged in some conservation by filling in rabbit holes and removing thorn bushes that were damaging the barrow.

[48] Jessup's investigation confirmed Thurnam's view that the tumulus was a Neolithic long barrow, ascertained that the northern end had been destroyed, and revealed both the polished stone axe and the Romano-British burials.