There happened to be a plumb-tree a little way from Knaresborough, where there had been a house formerly.—One Sunday, Metcalf and his companions (who were skilled in matters of this sort) would go there, to get some of the fruit; in these cases, Metcalf was always appointed to ascend, for the purpose of shaking the trees. He was accordingly sent up to his post; but in the height of the business, his companions gathering below were suddenly alarmed by the appearance of the owner of the tree, and prepared to quit the ground with all expedition:—Metcalf thus left to himself, soon understood how matters were going, though the wind was high, which prevented him from hearing distinctly; and being inclined to follow his comrades, in making his retreat he fell headlong into a gravel-pit belonging to Sir Harry Singsby, and cut a large gash in his face, without, however, receiving any other injury than a stun which for some time hindered his breathing, and kept him motionless on the ground.—His father being rather severe, Metcalf was afraid to go home, lest his wound should lead to a discovery of the prank he had been engaged in. Soon after this, (though not easily dismayed) he and some other boys were completely alarmed:—The church-porch at Knaresborough being the usual place of their meeting, they one night between eleven and twelve o’clock assembled there; Metcalf being generally the chief projector of their plans: They determined to rob an orchard; which having done, they returned to the church-porch to divide their booty. Before their return, a circumstance had happened to which they were strangers, but to the discovery of which the following little incident led, though not immediately: There being a large ring to the church-door, which turned for the purpose of lifting the latch, one of the party took hold of it, and, by of bravado, gave a loud rap; calling out, “_A tankard of ale here!_” A voice from within answered, very loudly, “_You are at the wrong house._” This so stupified the whole covey, that none of them could move for some time. At length, Metcalf said, “Did you not hear something speak in the church?” Upon this, they all took to their heels, and ran till they got out of the church-yard, Metcalf running as fast as any of them. They now held a consultation on the subject of their fright, all equally wondering at the voice, and none able to account satisfactorily for it—One supposed that it might have been some brother wag, who had put his mouth to the key-hole of the North door; but to this it was objected, that the reply was too distinct and too ready to have come in that way. At length, however, their spirits being a little raised, they ventured again down the flagged pavement into the church-yard; but when they came opposite to the church, they perceived a light, so great as inclined them to believe that the church was on fire. They now re-entered the church-porch, and were