I heard something
plainly go down the stairs. Then I went to the maid, who was half
asleep, and did not perfectly hear the last footsteps. But Mr.
Cranstoun heard them, and seemed greatly surprised. Then I bad the
maid go with me instantly to bed, not being able to keep up my spirits
any longer. Soon after this, Mr. Cranstoun and I went up to Fawley, to
pay a visit to the Rev. Mr. Stevens; and whilst we were there, I gave
my uncle an account of this surprising affair. But he laughed at me,
and called me little fool, for my pains. Then Mr. Cranstoun said,
"Sir, I myself heard it." To which Mr. Stevens made no other reply
than, "Sir, I don't doubt you think you heard it; but don't you
believe there is a great deal in fancy? May it not be some trick of
the servants?" To which I made answer, "No, Sir, that is impossible;
since if they could make the noise, they could not the music." Mr.
Stevens not giving much credit to what we affirmed, we immediately
changed the subject of discourse. By this time all the servants that
lay in the house had heard both the music and noise; and one morning
at breakfast, Mr. Cranstoun ventured to tell my father of the music.
At such a strange report, my father stared at him, and cried, "Are yon
light-headed?" In answer to which Mr. Cranstoun reply'd, "Your
daughter, sir, has heard the same, and so have all your servants." To
this my father, smiling, returned, "It was Scotch music, I suppose;"
and said some other things that shewed he was not in good humour. Upon
which it was thought fit immediately to drop the discourse.

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 w