Some few days after this, on a Sunday in the afternoon, Mr. Cranstoun and I being alone in the parlour, Betty Binfield, the cook-maid, came running into the room, and said, “There is such a noise in the room over my master’s study, for God’s sake come into the yard and hear it.”  But when we came, we could hear nothing.  However, returning into the parlour through the hall, we heard a noise over our heads, like that of some heavy person walking.  The room over the hall was once my mother’s dressing-room, tho’ it then had a bed in it:  but now, it was my dressing-room, it had none at all.  Hearing the noise, we both went up into the room; but then, notwithstanding the late noise, could see nothing at all.  After which, we went down and drank tea with my father.

About a fortnight before Mr. Cranstoun’s last departure for Scotland, Susannah Gunnel one morning going into his room with some vinegar and water to wash his eyes, he asked her, “If ever her master walked in his sleep?” She replied, “Not that she ever knew of.”  “It is very odd,” said he, “he was in my room to-night, dressed with his white stockings, his coat on, and a cap on his head.  I had never,” continued he, “been asleep, and the clock had just struck two.  I heard him walk up my stairs, open the door, and come into the room:  upon which I moved my curtain, and seeing him, I cried, ’Aha! old friend, what did you come to fright me?  I have not been asleep since I came to bed, and heard you come up.’  But he went on, he would not answer me one word.  However, he walked quite across my room, then turned back, and as he approached my bed-side, kissed his hand, bowed, and went out of the room.  Then I heard him go down stairs.  It was, certainly,” continued he, “your master, sleeping or waking; but which, I cannot tell.”  Susan greatly surprised at this story, then came running down to me, who was getting up, and told me what Mr. Cranstoun had said.  To this I made no answer, but went up immediately into his room, and asked him what he meant by this story Susan had told me.  In answer to which, he repeated the same story, and declared it to be true in every particular.  He then said, “He supposed Mr. Blandy came to see whether he was in bed or not.”  When he went down to breakfast, he asked my father, “What made him fright him so last night?” My father being surprised at this, and staring on him, asked him, “What he meant?” Mr. Cranstoun then told the same story over again.  To which my father replied, “It must have been a dream, for I went to bed at eleven o’clock, and did not rise out of it till seven this morning.  Besides, I could not have appeared in my coat, as you pretend, since the maid had it to put a button upon it.”  My father did not seem pleased with the discourse; which induced me to put an end to it as soon as possible.  The surprising facts here mentioned, of the reality of which I cannot entertain the least doubt, made a deep and lasting impression upon my mind.  Since, therefore, in my opinion, they were too slightly touched upon at my trial, notwithstanding the incredulity of the present age as to facts of this nature, I could by no means think it improper to give so particular and distinct a relation of them here.