In the year 1732, one John Barker kept an inn at the West end of the High Bridge, Knaresborough. This man was a manufacturer of linen cloth, and used to bleach his own yarn. At one time, having brought two packs of yarn to the river to wash, he thought he observed a number of wool-packs rolling towards him; but on a nearer view it proved to be a swelling of the current, occasioned by a sudden and very violent rain in the neighbourhood. He had not time to remove his yarn, so that it was swept away, and carried through the arches of the bridge, which stands on a rock. A little below there is a piece of still water, supposed to be about twenty-one feet in depth: as soon as the yarn got to this, it sunk, except a little which caught the skirts of the rock in going down. Metcalf being intimate with Barker, and calling at his house a few days after the accident, found him lamenting his lost. Metcalf told him that he hoped to recover his yarn for him, but Barker smiled at the supposed absurdity of the proposal: finding, however, that his friend was resolved on a trial, he consented. Metcalf then ordered some long cart-ropes to be procured, and fixing a hook at one end, and leaving the other to be held by some persons on the High Bridge, he descended, and hooking as much of the yarn as he could at one time, he gave orders for drawing up. In this way the whole was recovered, with very little damage.
Some time after this, Metcalf happened to be at Scriven, at the house of one Green, an innkeeper.—Two persons then present had a dispute concerning some sheep which one of them had put into the penfold. The owner of the sheep, (one Robert Scaif, a Knaresborough man, and a friend of Metcalf’s) appeared to be ill treated by the other party, who wished to take an unfair advantage. Metcalf perceiving that they were not likely to agree about the damages, bade them good night, saying he was going to Knaresborough, but it being about the dead time of night, he was firmly resolved to do a little friendly business before he should get home. The penfold being walled round, he climbed over, and getting hold of the sheep one by one, he fairly tossed them over the wall: the difficulty of the service increased as the number got less, not being so ready to catch;—he was not, however, thereby deterred, but fully completed the exploit.
On the return of day, the penfold door being found fast locked, great was the surprise on finding it untenanted, and various the conjectures as to the rogue or rogues who had liberated the sheep; but Metcalf past unsuspected, and enjoyed the joke in silence.
He continued to practice on the violin, until he became able to play country dances. At Knaresborough, during the winter season, there was an assembly every fortnight, at which he always attended, and went besides to many other places where there was public dancing; yet, though much employed in this way, he still retained his fondness for hunting, and likewise began to keep game cocks. Whenever he went to a cock-pit, it was his custom to place himself on the lowest seat, and always close to some friend who was a good judge, and who, by certain motions, enabled him to bet, hedge, &c. If at any time he heard of a better game cock than his own, he was sure to get him by some means or other, though at a hundred miles distance.
A little way from home he had a cock-walk, and at the next house there chanced to be another. The owner of the cock at the latter house supposing that Metcalf’s and his would meet, armed his own cock with a steel spur; which greatly displeasing Metcalf, he formed a plan of revenge; and getting one of his comrades to assist, they procured a quantity of cabbage-leaves, and fastening them together with skewers, they fixed them against the outside of the windows, that the family might not perceive the return of day-light; and that they should also be prisoners, their associates in roguery walled up the door with stones, and mud-mortar, which they were assisted in making by the convenience of a pump which stood near. They then brought water, in tubs, and continued pouring it in great quantities over the new wall, (which did not reach quite up to the top of the door-frame) until the house was flooded to a great depth. This done, they made the best of their way home.
In the morning, the people of the house finding their situation, and being at no loss to suppose who had been the projector, and in all probability the leading performer, of the business, were no sooner set at liberty, than they went to a Justice, and got a warrant for Metcalf; but not being able to prove the fact, he was, of course, dismissed.
His fame now began to spread; and when any arch trick was done, inquiry was sure to be made where Metcalf had been at the time.
At Bilton, two miles from Knaresborough, there was a rookery, and the boys had made many attempts to take the young ones; but the owner wishing to preserve them, they were prevented. Metcalf determining to make a trial, sent one of his comrades in the day-time as a spy to reconnoitre the position of the nests; and having been informed by him as to this, they set out in the dead of night, and brought away seven dozen and a half, excepting the heads, which they left under the trees. The owner of the rooks finding the heads, sent the bellman round, offering a reward of two guineas for discovering the offenders: the secret, however, was kept until long afterwards.
A man at Knaresborough having married a woman who had lived at a farm-house about a mile distant, brought his wife to his own home; and some articles being left in the deserted house, he sent a son he had by a former marriage to bring them away.—Metcalf being about the same age as this boy, chose to accompany him. When they got to the place, the boy missed the key, which he had lost from his pocket by the way; and being afraid to return without his errand, he consulted Metcalf about what was to be done. Metcalf was for entering the house at all events; and not being able to procure a ladder, got a pole, which reached to the thatch, and having borrowed a rope and a stick, he climbed up the pole, and then ascending by the roof to the chimney, he placed the stick across, and fastening the rope to it, attempted to descend, but finding the flew too narrow, he threw off his cloaths, and laying them on the ridge of the house, made a second attempt, and succeeded: he then opened the door for his companion. While they were in the house, there was a heavy thunder-shower, to which Metcalf’s cloathes were exposed, being left upon the house-top: he attempted to get up again, to fetch them; but the pole by which he had ascended was now so wet, that he could not climb by it; he was therefore obliged to wait until it dried, when ascending again, he recovered his cloathes. This was considered by all who heard of it as a very extraordinary performance by one in his situation, as well as a great act of friendship to his companion.
In the year 1732 Metcalf was invited to Harrogate, to succeed, as fidler, a poor old man who had played there for 70 years, and who, being borne down by the weight of 100 years, began to play too slow for country dancing. Metcalf was well received by the nobility and gentry, who employed no other fidler, except a boy whom he hired as an assistant, when they began to build a long-room at the Queen’s Head.