This looks like a magical spot so if it has attendant fairies (rather than children run off from picnics) then that would be nice.
Sir, – [...] I have long wished to relate to Border folk a queer experience that happened to me at Routin Linn, near Ford. My mother was a native of that place and I spent a few years of the first part of my life in that delightful place. I went back when I was grown up and married. It had been said to me: “You must see the Routin Linn.” I did so, and this is what happened: –
When I got there and looked up at the waterfall I was amazed to see a beautiful little child looking down at me and smiling; she could not have been more than three or four years old. Much wondering how she could have got there, for she was close beside the running water, I climbed up the rocks, but there was nothing but the bare plain and the trees. I went down again, but when I looked up there she was, still smiling. I climbed up again and it was the same: there was not a vestige of any living soul. I gave it up after that.
This happened a good many years ago, but I still see that lovely child looking down at me from the top of the Linn. A short time ago I told a Quaker friend the story and he said I should take it further. After a long life of reading and study I have come to the conclusion that the Routin Linn is haunted, and I must have been in sympathy with the atmosphere at the time. If any of your readers know of any tales or legends connected with the Linn I shall be pleased to know them.
Yours etc.,
Ada Jennings.
From the Berwick Advertiser, 18th March 1943.