SOME years ago some new houses were being built near Durham, and, on
completion, one of them was taken by a bachelor gentleman, who, apart
from his sister going in daily to do his cooking, etc., lived quite
alone. The night in question, I was sleeping in the next house when
suddenly I was aroused by a loud hammering as though a bedstead was
being taken down. It continued for some minutes, alternately stopping
a second, and then going on again. I strained my ears to listen, until
it ceased, then I heard the gentleman go downstairs and out into the
street, closing the door behind him.
Next morning, I was surprised to see him removing his goods presumably
to his sister's house. Seeing me standing at the door, he said, “Did
you hear any noise from my bedroom last night?” I said, “Yes. Whatever
were you doing?” He replied, “It was the most awful experience I've
ever had, and I wouldn't stay there another night, so I’m moving out
to-day.” “Whatever was the hammering?” I asked, and he told me that he
had fallen asleep when he suddenly became conscious of some apparition
in the room, although it was dark. Then blow after blow was made upon
the bottom of the iron bed rail (just as I had heard it) and the bed
shook each time it was battered. Thoroughly scared, he lay speechless,
unable to move until the spectre vanished; then he got a light,
slipped into his things and ran downstairs and out of the house to his
sister's. On examination, no marks were found on the bedstead, and his
story was confirmed, because I had heard the sounds next door, but no
discovery was ever made regarding this unwelcome visitor.